by Justin Sloan
“I met a different kind of mystic,” she responded. “A man who could do their kind of magic, but was evil. It was…horrifying.”
“You know,” he said, smiling, “you’re ok. It won’t be as bad as I thought.”
“What won’t be?”
“Traveling tomorrow. My uncle and a couple others from the clans are going with you and your father, me included. They figure if we can demonstrate to the other clans that we’re already uniting, it’ll be a better show.”
“Oh, I hadn’t realized.” She glanced around, wondering how many of them would be going and how many would stay here to defend all the newcomers. They surely needed a small army if they were going to have a chance against what was out there.
If the remnant came, or worse, the paladins.
“We’re going to be all right,” she told the boy. “I’m Kia.”
“Lannis,” he responded, then reached out and shook her hand. “Want to meet Stormy?”
“Stormy?” She shook her head, but then it hit her. “Please tell me you didn’t name the wind spirit.”
He smiled. “Sure did. Watch.”
His eyes went black again and his hands moved, and a moment later, there was clearly a figure in the wind. Kia couldn’t tell if it was male or female, as it wasn’t distinct; more like the suggestion of a person. She laughed as it spun around her and came to within an inch of her face. It paused there, staring at her—she could almost see its eyes swirling. For a moment she wanted to talk to it, before remembering that it was part of Lannis’ imagination rather than an actual being.
“Cute,” she agreed as he made the spirit swoop down to the riverbank and dance across the little pebbles.
“And not something to be playing with,” Donnon’s voice came from behind them. Kia spun to see her father approaching with another man. The stranger was short, with closely-cropped red hair.
He eyed her with distaste and commanded, “Come along, Lannis.”
“But Dad—”
“Now, boy,” the man ordered, and Kia guessed he was the boy’s uncle. “We don’t mix with fire mages, and we don’t wander about at this time of night.”
“Don’t get personal,” Donnon said to him, then nodded to Kia. “We have a long journey and lots of work tomorrow, so come along.”
She stood, but instead of following her father she squared off with Lannis’ uncle. “Who do you think you are, huh? Our friends are saints compared to you, with that ‘don’t mingle’ crud.”
“Children must learn their place,” he growled at Donnon, ignoring her.
“Your nephew’s out here as well, when he should be in bed,” her dad replied. “So I’d expect you to mind your own business, Oronth.”
Kia narrowed her eyes as the man took an exhausted Lannis by the shoulder.
The effects of using magic, Kia thought, but just stood there, glaring after them as they left.
“You really should be in bed,” Donnon reminded her, but he was smiling. “Still, I enjoyed you putting him in his place.”
He ruffled her hair, and she grinned.
“Why can’t the clans learn to get along better?” she asked. “We have enough enemies, Dad.”
“That’s our goal tomorrow, dear.” He was about to lead her back to their room, but then pursed his lips in thought and motioned for her to sit. It was a warm night, despite the fog on the water in the distance. When she had joined him, he started, “You know, some stories tell us there used to be great men and women who walked among us, like gods, really.”
“Valerie the Enforcer.” Kia nodded.
He looked at her with shock in his eyes. “How…?”
“Dad, it’s a stupid story. A myth. It’s not very well known, but it’s spread far enough.”
“And how does this version of the myth that you heard go?”
She considered for a moment, thinking back to the various versions. “That she fought for justice, first of all. That she was a pirate, but a good one, others say. There are some versions where she could read minds, and in others she was invincible, with the blood of the gods in her.”
“Some would even say she was a god,” he agreed. “I visited a place once and looked upon her likeness, etched into the wall of their cave. But no, I don’t believe she was a god. Just a heroine, like we need right now.”
“Very much so,” she replied with a sigh. “But…it’s just a story.”
He put an arm around her and squeezed. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“What?” She saw the look in his eyes and laughed. “You want me to be this hero?”
“You might not be able to walk on water, but I’ve seen you use magic. Why not?”
“Being a hero takes a lot more than magic, Dad.”
He smiled and tapped her chest. “Yes, dear. It takes heart.”
“I’d like to try.” She considered it. “I’d like to be that, someday. A woman others look up to, a woman who stands for justice.”
“Start right now, and make it ‘a girl others look up to, a girl who stands for justice.’” He smiled again, then stood and offered her a hand. “I know you are ready.”
She took his hand and laughed as he pulled her up. “Of course you’d say that, you’re my dad.”
“Maybe you’ll get a chance to prove it to yourself soon.” Her dad winked.
She liked that idea, but didn’t relish the thought of more fighting. She’d had enough of that to last three lifetimes, by her calculations.
“I’m not tired, Dad,” she told him as he led her back to the room. She laid down on the bed and added, “I’m too excited to…” and then found herself drifting off to a land of dreams, where wind spirits danced among flowers of beautiful flames.
CHAPTER FOUR
The ocean roared before them, hitting the cliffs of Roneland and bursting forth in giant sprays of water. While the closest city was farther south, they had reached the ocean, which meant they couldn’t get lost. Now that they were at the ocean, they just had to head south.
Simple as that.
The sun had risen a couple hours before they reached the coast and it still hung over the mountains to the east, but hadn’t turned the day hot yet. A strong wind brought with it the salty scent of adventure, and Alastar imagined himself out there battling the Storm Raiders, as he had heard the clans sometimes did.
Truth be told, if it weren’t for the clans, the Storm Raiders might have successfully invaded Roneland long ago. The king of Gulanri kept to the south, where he could hide behind his walls and let the Ronelanders deal with the mess.
The group paused at a point where some trees bent inland to seek shelter from the wind and feed and water the horses.
Alastar took a spot next to the closest tree, sitting on the trunk where it angled out flat before curving upward. It had been a long ride, so he used his healing magic to rejuvenate his body, but, as always after using magic, another part of him felt drained. Some food and water would help in this regard, so he pulled a loaf of bread from his pack, along with some dried meats and a flask of water.
He patted the spot beside him and offered a bite to Estair. She had her plaid cloak wrapped around herself, but stood proud against the wind. Rhona, on the other hand was shivering.
“I think she needs my company more than you do, for the moment,” Estair said, then wrapped her cloak around Rhona, holding her tightly.
Alastar scrunched up his face. “Excuse me?”
Rhona also looked confused, but Estair laughed and waved the question off. “You lowlanders don’t know how to deal with a harsh wind. Relax, I’m just keeping your sister warm.”
“Thanks,” Rhona replied, somewhat sarcastically, but Alastar noticed she was leaning into the warmth instead of pushing Estair away.
Gordon stood at the edge of the trees looking out at the waves. After a moment, he asked, “There’s a strange fog out there. Think it’s them?”
“The Storm Raiders?” Alastar replied. “No, I wouldn’t think they�
��d be here on the western shore.
“They come from the east, sometimes from the north,” Gordon agreed, nodding. “You think I lived on the eastern shore most my life and didn’t know that? Still, I’ve heard rumors, or maybe just speculation.”
“I’ve heard their ships can’t make it if they aren’t within sight of land,” Estair offered. “So if they made it to the west, some of the Watcher Clans would’ve seen them.”
“Watcher Clans?” Rhona asked.
Gordon nodded. “As much as the clans war with each other, there are times we’ve cooperated. The Watcher Clans are a perfect example. Men and women, volunteers, go out for periods of time to posts near the shore. They provide a warning system for when the Storm Raiders invade, and fight them off if needed.”
“And the clansmen and women manage to not fight out there?”
Gordon laughed. “In a perfect world, aye. But it’s not an easy duty, that’s for sure. Ol’ McRarik came back missing three teeth last year, which he vowed were lodged in the neck of a fire mage.” He chuckled, then turned to Estair with a sheepish glance. “No offense meant.”
She frowned, but nodded.
Alastar finished chewing his bread and tore off a chunk of meat, then put the rest away for later.
“We don’t want to give Sir Arse-breath back there a chance to catch up.” He stood, looking around. “Is everyone ready? The horses good?”
Gordon laughed, pointing at Alastar’s bowlegged pose. “Looks like your healing takes care of the pain, but not everything, huh?”
“I can handle more riding if you can, old man.”
Gordon huffed at that. “You’ve been asking for trouble since we left.”
“Boys, maybe you two just need to snuggle like we are, and get it over with?” Estair suggested with a grin.
Rhona pulled away with a frown.
“Just teasing,” Estair amended with a laugh, but she moved to her horse and mounted. “Come on, we can’t be too far off.”
Alastar held up a hand, went around to the other side of the trees to empty his bladder, and cursed as the wind picked up the liquid and nearly blew it back on him. He moved out of the way just in time, but the action had given the others a direct view of him blowing in the wind.
“Oh, by the Saint,” Rhona cursed, covering her eyes.
“We ain’t paying you for the peep show,” Gordon declared with a laugh. Estair just chuckled.
“Just be happy you weren’t standing downwind,” Alastar replied, blushing as he put himself away. He used a bit of his magic to give him the needed boost to mount his horse, and again his head spun, but at least he was on the horse and could ride while he restored his energy.
The winds picked up as they continued, so Gordon led them a bit inland, close enough to see the cliffs but not so far away that they lost the direction.
They spotted a crumbling building that had once been made of steel and glass off to their left, now a vine-covered ruin. Smaller heaps of rubble with various degrees of overgrowth were nearby, along with what looked like an old ship attached to a balloon, though that didn’t make sense to Alastar. It was in better shape than the remains of the buildings, but reminded him of an old half-sunken ship he had once seen off the coast closer to the castle where he and Rhona had been raised.
“What do you think it was?” Estair asked, riding up next to him.
He just shook his head. “The technology of the old days never ceases to amaze me.”
As they rode on, he got a better look, and saw a faded symbol that resembled a face with two long, pointy teeth.
“You don’t see that every day.” He pointed to the symbol.
Estair nodded, wide eyes showing that she was equally intrigued.
Gordon seemed to be less interested, and when he saw Alastar giving him a confused look, he told them, “I’ve seen one before. I think they’re flying contraptions.”
“People can’t fly,” Rhona stated with a laugh. “Oh, you mean like…some old form of magic?”
He shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But I think it was meant for the air, based on the way that thing was built with wings and a rudder.”
“I don’t buy it,” Rhona replied. “But that doesn’t mean I’m any less interested in trying to make it work if we ever get a chance. You know, after all of this is over with.”
“Sure.” Alastar smirked. “We’ll get her up and going, then sail through the skies, seeing the world.”
“Fighting bad guys from above, like angels from the heavens,” she joked, but Alastar wasn’t totally sure she was kidding.
“Come on,” Gordon urged. “You want to see it up close and personal?”
“We oughta keep moving,” Alastar protested.
“You think we can continue without sleep? This is as good a place as any to get some rest, and those ruins might shield us some from the wind.”
They found a comfortable spot within the strange flying machine, their horses just behind them. The walls were wood planks, reinforced in places with metal. Much of it had been pulled off, likely to form weapons or defensive living structures for the locals. At the rear was a stairway that would have once led down into the ship, but now only led to the ground where the ship’s structure ended, either buried or broken off, having landed somewhere else.
“If this thing could tell its stories,” Rhona marveled, caressing the smooth wood, “I’d stay and listen for hours.”
Alastar removed his cloak and bundled it up like a pillow, then found a spot to lie down. “But since it can’t, how about some sleep?”
Estair lingered at the outer edge, her eyes moving slowly from the fallen airship to Alastar and Rhona. With a brief smile, she said, “I’ve got first watch.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Gordon objected. “Allow me.”
“The tough man wants to prove himself?”
“The hell did I do to earn that?” Gordon leaned back against the wall. “Offer rescinded.”
“Sorry,” she told him. “The ride…it took a lot out of me. I’ll take first watch, if you’re up for second?”
He nodded.
“I’ll take third,” Alastar offered, then nodded to Rhona. “Fourth.”
“Works for me.”
Estair stepped away, moving to the horses.
***
When she was gone, Rhona moved over next to her brother and waited until Gordon had closed his eyes.
“What’s happening here?” she asked in a whisper.
Alastar frowned with drowsy eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“I’m just looking out for you. You’ve never been this close to anyone before, right?”
“As if you have!”
“Did… I never told you about Taland?” She blushed, biting her lower lip at the scolding look she knew would show in his eyes. Instead, she was surprised to see disgust.
“That douche-nugget?” Alastar sat up, his voice rising. “Please tell me you just had a crush on him, that nothing ever happened.”
Gordon cleared his throat. “Can you two keep it down?”
“Sorry,” Alastar offered, then turned to her, waiting. “So?”
“I thought you liked him, or used to, anyway.” She ran a hand through her hair, then moved back under the shade of the broken boards above.
“That guy was always a show-off. Aye, he wasn’t so bad, once. But when you put him in a room alone with my sister? Suddenly I like him even less.”
She laughed. “My protective big bro.”
“I honestly didn’t know you needed one, but yeah, you can always count on me. And be open with me.”
She shrugged. “He and I…we had a little thing. Not much, but enough to know what a confused heart feels like. Enough to know it can hurt and feel damn good.”
“I hope we’re still talking about the heart?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Shut up.” She lay back, and he reclined too, on his side so he could see her.
�
��To answer your question,” he began, “I’ve never felt anything like this. You know, even if I still was a practicing paladin, I mean, if I wasn’t on the run, this is something I’d consider leaving my vows for. Her, I mean. She would be worth it.”
“You’re a sad excuse for a paladin,” she stated with a chuckle.
At first his eyes showed frustration, but then he smiled and shook his head. “You know, you’re right. But in a way, I’m more paladin than any of them. Well, maybe not Stone. He was always loyal to the Order, a devout follower of the Saint. But the rest of them? Taland with…whatever it was that happened with you two. Don’t tell me! And the way they’re acting now? The way they never accepted the clans but judged them and declared war on them? That doesn’t sound so paladin-like to me.”
“You’re the best paladin there is.”
“Not the High Paladin. I mean…that’s blasphemy.”
“You still believe that?”
He looked up at the boards, and she followed his gaze to a spot where the light broke through a crack and created a starburst effect.
“I don’t know what I believe anymore. But I believe in him, in Sir Gildon. If I didn’t, it would mean my whole life had been one big lie. I’m not ready to face that possibility.”
Not sure how to respond to that, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She was exhausted, but with this new adventure, her mind kept racing. She had often wondered about Sair Talem, the land that had once been covered in green. The stories said it was now covered in death.
But if Saint Rodrick had led warriors over there to cast out the mad, surely it wasn’t as bad as everyone said. Even if he had failed, what then? The crazies from the Age of Madness had been gone for many years. Or could they have somehow survived on the island? Was that even possible?
This whole trying-to-sleep thing wasn’t working, so she turned on her side and thought of Donnon—his arms around her, pulling him close, his lips brushing hers. And more.
Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep, she let her mind wander to places like that, and it helped. Maybe it was the flow of blood away from her head to other parts of her body; she had no idea, but if it worked, it worked.
