“Isn’t a map. I know heading and sea and wind conditions when Serl sailed, but he was never becalmed. And despite how still the water looks, we’ve been drifting all morning.”
“What about the Raven’s-Eye?” Lady Danika asked. “Surely it can help.”
Fioni bit her upper lip and shook her head. “Even knowing the sun’s location, I can only guess as to where we are. At this time of the year, the current should be pushing us southeast. But...” Her voice trailed off.
“We row then,” Owen insisted.
Kora was fully dressed now and was once again strapping her Lyrian short swords to her back. “What do you think, Fioni?”
“Do you even know how to row, Northman?” Erik asked.
Owen’s back stiffened, but he ignored the barb.
“He can row, Erik,” said Kora as she adjusted the handles of her swords. “And fight. Be thankful for that, or you’d still be a slave.”
Erik’s smile vanished. “I meant no offense.”
“None taken,” Owen lied.
Fioni watched Owen and Erik, a sparkle in her green eyes, an amused tilt to her lips. “As much as it pains me to say this, I think that this one time, Owen is right. We’ve waited all day for the wind to return. With the state of the strakes, we can’t wait any longer. We row.”
“But which direction?” Kora asked.
“Southeast. Serl wrote of a black fish breeding area, a landmark, and—more importantly—land to the southeast of it.”
“How can a spot of water be a landmark?” Owen asked.
“Such ‘spots of water’ are remarkable to the children of Wodor, Owen, in the same way that you mainlanders note a particularly tall hill or odd tree. Such things are passed from generation to generation—if for no other reason than to avoid where the vole serpents hunt the black fish.”
“So what does that mean, then?” Lady Danika asked.
“It means, my lady of Wolfrey,” said Fioni, “that despite losing the wind and drifting all day, we may not be as far off track as we think. Serl passed the black fish breeding grounds—”
“What if Serl referred to another black fish area?” Owen asked.
“There wouldn’t be two such sites, not so close,” said Kora.
“Which means Serl came this way,” said Fioni. “And in his journal he made mention of an atoll to the southeast of the black fish site. So we row southeast and hope for the best.”
“An atoll? An island?” asked Lady Danika.
“Yes—but perhaps not as you’d describe such a thing,” said Kora. “An atoll is often little more than a rock rising above the sea.”
Fioni stood. “But it might be large enough for us to beach Fen Wolf while we fix the broken strakes.”
“In this fog, we might row right past it,” said Kora.
“And if we don’t make land soon—even a rock rising above the water—we’re going to sink. We have to try,” said Fioni.
“Agreed,” said Kora.
“Well, Northman,” said Erik, clapping Owen on the shoulder. “Looks like you’re going to get to row, after all.”
#
They rowed in shifts, slowly hauling the ship through the still waters. As the ship took on more water, it grew heavier, more cumbersome. Fioni stood at the stern, her hand upon the tiller. Every half hour or so, she’d use the Raven’s-Eye to find the sun and then make minor course adjustments. Owen, pulling an oar beside Kora, had slipped into the same long, slow strokes as the others that were necessary to maintain a steady tempo. Those who were not rowing, including Lady Danika and Gali, were frantically bailing, using buckets, helmets, whatever worked, to drain the water. Yet the water continued to pool around their ankles, slowly rising. The crew had removed some of the deck boards, and now several worked on hands and knees in the cold water, trying to stuff a mixture of hair, moss, and a tar-like tree resin into the broken strakes. No one said anything, but Owen felt the tension, saw it in the crew’s eyes. We’re running out of time. In every direction, all he saw was fog. It was early afternoon yet, but when the sun went down, they’d never find the atoll. Can we even stay afloat until daybreak?
“Bird to port!” a lookout yelled.
Owen looked to Kora’s face, saw the excitement in her eyes. “Does that mean—”
“Land to port!” the lookout yelled again.
This time the entire crew cheered. Most dropped their oars to rush to the port side, Owen among them. He saw the dark shadow appear through the mist—land, a small island. Birds circled overhead, a type he had never seen before with long black feathers and a sharp beak.
“Shrikes,” Kora said. “Unless you all wish to swim the last bit, get your asses back on the rowing benches!” she yelled.
Then, absent all day, the wind came back, brushing against his sweaty face. Owen sighed and flexed his sore shoulders. Great. Now that we don’t need it anymore…
The breeze pushed the fog back, vastly improving visibility in only moments, exposing more of the atoll. Even from here, he could see that it was so small it would probably take less than a half hour to cross it on foot. A single large hill dominated its interior with a stony black beach surrounding it. Kora had been right: it was little more than a rock rising above the water.
But it was the most beautiful rock he had ever seen.
Chapter 23
Owen
The entire crew, including Gali and Lady Danika, beached Fen Wolf. It took more than an hour because the entire ship needed to be unloaded by hand, the provisions and supplies carried through the surf and onto the rocky beach. Then, when the ship was as light as it was going to get, they all dragged, pulled, shoved, and rocked the waterlogged longship far enough onto the shore to get at the broken strakes. The seawater began to drain. It would be much easier to push the lighter vessel back into the water now, and would only take minutes at best. Owen watched silently behind Fioni and Kora as they examined the broken strakes.
He was amazed they had made it without sinking. The damage had been far worse than Kora had described. Four of the central strakes were broken, not two—with one shattered. There were no real trees on this atoll, certainly nothing that could replace a strake, but Fen Wolf had carried more supplies stored away under the deck boards than Owen would have thought possible: hammers, axes, saws, bundles of iron nails, and wooden jars filled with moss and tar—and, thank Father Craftsman, long wooden beams stacked together atop the keel. If they had to, according to Kora, they could also use some of the deck boards. While not ideal, they would keep most of the seawater out. As she was first mate, the task of repairing the ship fell on Kora, who was explaining to Fioni what she intended to do first. Fioni, however, kept interrupting her, pointing out how she would do it.
It was no business of his, so Owen wandered away.
The crew were happily chatting and laughing as they set up tents, built a small fire, and started cooking dinner. Owen moved away, considering the large hill at the center of the atoll. While he saw no trees, there were green bushes growing at its base, as well as thick vegetation on the summit of the hill. Is there a stream up there, fresh water? Kora and Fioni’s voices rose in volume as the two women clearly began trying to talk over one another, with Kora jabbing a finger into Fioni’s chest as she spoke. The crew wisely drifted away, pretending not to see them, and Owen continued to examine the hill’s summit. The shrikes they had seen earlier seemed to be roosting up there, further reinforcing the possibility of fresh water. The summit appeared… odd, as if a portion of it had been broken off.
Lady Danika joined him. “I’ve never seen those two argue before.”
He pointed to the summit. “My lady, what do you see up there?”
She squinted and then drew Sight-Bringer. Her breath caught in her throat. “There are stone blocks, broken pillars among the bushes.” Her eyes were wide as she turned to face him. “Ruins, Owen. There are ruins up there.”
“How is that possible?”
“The Feral Sea is
a place of legends, Owen. The Fenyir may be the best mariners in the world, but even they don’t come here. If not for the Illthori Raven’s-Eye, we wouldn’t be here either. Who can say who once lived here or what they left behind?”
Owen felt his excitement grow. “We should go take a look. If nothing else, maybe we can find fresh water.”
Danika hesitated and then nodded. “Let’s talk to Fioni.”
#
“You want to do what?” Fioni asked them.
Fioni and Kora had seemingly been near blows when Owen and Lady Danika had interrupted them. Now, both women stared at them, their faces red.
“A quick look,” said Owen. “Even if there isn’t a creek, we may find a pool of rainwater.”
“It’d be stagnant,” said Fioni.
“We can boil it,” said Kora. “This might be a good idea.”
“Ruins, you say?” Fioni repeated, staring up at the hilltop in the distance. She turned about, sniffing the air. “The weather’s turning bad. I think a storm is building.”
To Owen’s eye, the sky was the same grey mist it had been since entering the fog bank. “Are you sure? It looks—”
Fioni’s face darkened, but Kora put a hand on her forearm. “If Fioni Ice-Bound says a storm is coming, then a storm is coming. But we do need more water—even if it is brackish. Wouldn’t you agree, Fioni?”
“I suppose so. Go ahead, but take someone else with you—and maybe one of the crossbows.”
“You should go, Fioni,” said Kora.
“No. You need me to—”
“No. I don’t. I really don’t,” said Kora with finality. “You are Fen Wolf’s master. You choose the course and the prey we go after, but I run the ship—and that includes fixing her. Go with your guests, and leave Fen Wolf to me. Trust me; I’ll get her seaworthy again.”
Fioni’s eyes flashed in indecision. “I should—”
“Fioni, I love you like a sister,” said Kora. “But if you don’t get out of my hair, I’m going to kill you myself.”
Fioni looked away. “Fine. As long as we’re not gone long.”
“I’ll go as well,” said Erik Gull-Song, now joining them. The young man smiled, flashing his too-white teeth at Fioni. “I could use a chance to stretch my legs.”
“Probably a waste of your time,” said Owen.
“Nonsense,” said Fioni, glancing from Owen to Erik. “If there is water up there, we can use a strong back to help us carry it.”
#
They ate first, wolfing down stew with dried fish chunks, while Kora oversaw the repairs on Fen Wolf, glaring at Fioni whenever she came too close to the work. Within the hour, though, Owen, Lady Danika, Fioni, and Erik had loaded themselves up with empty water skins and were trekking toward the hill. The hike was quick and easy, and they soon found themselves at the base of the hill, where, just as he had expected, they found a muddy, brackish creek. Owen paced the creek’s bank for several minutes, looking for dead birds or other signs that the water was bad, but found nothing. They filled all the water skins, stacking them along the bank. Fioni wiped her wet palms on her breeches and peered up the hill. “You’re sure you saw ruins?”
“You can’t see them from this angle,” said Lady Danika, “but they’re up there.”
Erik bit his lip, looking ill at ease. “This close to Torin Island, what if—”
Fioni snorted. “The gods wouldn’t live on a bird-shit-stained little rock like this. I don’t know who lived here, but it wasn’t our gods.”
“Only one way to find out,” said Lady Danika as she brushed past the other woman and began to climb the hillside.
Worried but happy to see her more active, Owen held his scabbard in place with one hand while hurrying after her. Whatever they found up there, it might help her forget the horror she had experienced in the Rose Palace.
The hill’s slope was mostly barren and covered in rock, but as they neared the summit, they saw more and more thick green bushes and small windblown trees. Erik took up the rear, carrying one of the heavy Kur’teshi crossbows in case they saw anything worth killing and bringing back for dinner, although Owen doubted such a rock could support anything larger than a turtle or bird.
Fioni paused, sniffing the air once again. “Definitely a storm brewing. Thank the gods we found this atoll when we did.”
As Owen reached the summit behind Lady Danika, he saw the ruins clearly for the first time. The shattered remains of walls lay about the level surface of the hill. Once, a huge multi-storied structure with walls and towers had sat upon the hilltop, but now all that remained was its broken shell, half-overgrown by weeds and bushes. The wind whistled through the broken masonry.
“Gods,” said Erik, awe in his voice. “Who builds homes from stone and not wood?”
Owen scrambled up atop one of the broken walls, using the elevation to look down upon the ruins. “Not homes,” he said. “See the remains of a tower there and there?” he pointed to several piles of stone, barely recognizable now. “This was a fort.”
“Like Stron’s Watch?” Lady Danika asked.
“Exactly like Stron’s Watch,” he answered. “Although the masonry is... different.” He stared at the remains of what must have once been a window but built as an inverted triangle, the point facing down. Who builds windows like that? He met Fioni’s gaze. “Did the Hishtari ever settle in the Feral Sea?”
She shook her head. “The Hishtari are not an… exploratory people.”
“In their past maybe, a long time ago?”
“Not ever, Owen. The only people that would have sailed here are my people—and we’ve never worked in stone. We’re woodworkers.”
“Whoever it was,” said Lady Danika, “they abandoned this place hundreds of years ago. These ruins are ancient.”
She was right, he saw. The elements had almost completely reclaimed the summit. A thick carpet of moss, weeds, and bushes strangled the bricks and walls, looking like a new skin. “I’m not so sure they abandoned it, my lady,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Look, the walls, the towers—they’ve all fallen in. This place was broken.”
“A cataclysm of some type?” suggested Fioni.
“Or the wrath of the gods,” said Erik softly.
The wind howled louder now.
Owen carefully edged his way up another pile of broken stones, precariously balancing upon the rubble. He froze when one of the blocks began to suddenly shift and teeter, sending pebbles scattering. He leaped higher up onto another.
“Careful, Owen,” said Lady Danika.
“If not for the fog,” he said, spinning in place and staring out at the sea around them, “you could see for a dozen leagues from up here.”
“What do you see?” Erik asked him.
“The fog is clearing somewhat, but the waves are growing rougher,” he said.
“Yes, that tends to happen during storms,” Fioni snapped.
Owen was about to climb back down when something strange caught his eye. It hadn’t been easy to see before, but from this height, he saw that a portion of the rubble near one of the collapsed towers seemed… open, as if the stone had fallen around something. “There’s something over there.”
“Over where?” Fioni asked.
Moving carefully, Owen jumped from stone to stone, sending several more skittering and sliding down, and made his way to a hollow space created by fallen blocks of stone. “Here,” he said, gazing down at a pattern in the ground, a white triangle several feet wide surrounded by black stone, with weeds growing over them.
He carefully climbed down into the hollow, an open space of perhaps fifteen feet. The others joined him. “There are runes carved into the stone,” said Fioni, dropping down on one knee and yanking the brush clear, exposing strangely familiar runic markings.
Lady Danika rested her hand on his forearm. “Owen! They’re the same as on—”
“Sight-Bringer,” he answered breathlessly.
> She knelt down and placed the broken Illthori sword alongside the markings on the stone, comparing them to those on the blade. Clearly, the same people who had made Sight-Bringer had also etched the symbols around the edges of the white triangle.
“What does this mean?” Fioni asked.
“It means,” said Lady Danika, wonder in her voice, “that these are Illthori ruins.”
Fioni’s mouth dropped open. “Is that even possible—”
“The sword! Look,” insisted Erik.
In comparing the markings, Lady Danika had touched the blade against the stone. Now, the runes carved into the metal blade and white triangle began to glow with a soft blue-white light. Lady Danika snatched back the broken sword, and the markings on both blade and stone began to fade. “My lady,” said Owen, a note of trepidation in his voice, “perhaps…”
Ignoring him, she bent down again, bringing the broken tip of the sword near the markings once more. As she did, the eldritch glow returned, and Lady Danika inhaled deeply in wonder and then began to run the tip of the sword over all three sides of the triangle, lighting all the runes up.
“This is an evil place,” said Erik. “We need to go back.”
When the last of the runes on the stone was glowing, the ground began to hum and vibrate, sending all four of them scrambling back in fear. The white stone triangle sank into the earth, and a cloud of dust exploded out, making them all choke and cough. When the cloud drifted away, they saw the triangle begin to turn beneath the ground, pivoting away to reveal a dark opening and a flight of dark, glasslike stone steps. A soft green glow shone upon the stairs.
Chapter 24
Owen
Owen stared down at the dark, glasslike stone steps and the green light coming from below. The steps extended as far as he could see, dozens of feet beneath the earth. From here, he could just make out another tunnel at the base of the steps. Impossibly smooth black walls ran on either side of the stairs.
“What... what have you done?” Erik asked Lady Danika.
Now that the portal was fully open, the glowing runes around the portal’s edge and the sword blade faded away once again. “I didn’t know that would happen,” Lady Danika said softly, wonder in her voice. “These must be Illthori ruins.”
The Vampire Queen Saga: Books 1-3: (The Vampire Queen Saga Boxset) Page 67
