by Kel Kade
Rezkin was focused on maintaining a steady breath as his heart calmed. He looked at the tortured mage. “Journeyman, how did you know which ship was carrying the demon?”
Wesson raised his head but would not look at them. “I had no idea. I intended to destroy them both. I decided the closest would be less likely to escape if I destroyed the furthest first.”
Rezkin nodded. “That was a well-considered strategy, and your spell was quite effective.”
Mage Threll hesitantly reached out and patted Wesson on the back. “That was … impressive. Where did you learn such a thing?”
Wesson shook his head, covering it with his hands again. No one pressed him.
Mage Threll looked at Rezkin. “You were under water a long time. How did you survive?”
Rezkin tilted his head and looked at her curiously. “I was under water, but I was not. At times, it was as if air surrounded me. I thought you had cast a spell.”
She shook her head. “No, not I.”
Her eyes widened, and Rezkin turned to see what had captured her attention. A river of water that had climbed the ship began to flow across the deck in a narrow stream. As it slipped back into the water on the other side, the deck became dry. What it left behind was the greatest surprise. Rezkin strode toward the item with caution. After close examination, he lifted it from the planks and held it aloft. Blue swirls glinted across a silver edge in the last of the day’s light.
He looked toward Nanessy, and she shook her head again.
Captain Estadd stopped a few paces away and said, “The nereids look kindly upon our blessed king.”
Rezkin looked at the captain. He sheathed Kingslayer and then surveyed the rest of the ship. He said, “Shezar, find Reaylin so that she may treat Mage Threll before she loses consciousness. Then, see to the hull repair.” He looked back at the captain. “What is our status?”
Estadd said, “We will not be going anywhere without a mast. With the help of the mages, we may be able to salvage some of that debris out there for a temporary mend.”
“Do we have an accounting of the crew and passengers?”
“You will not like it. Several were injured in the collisions. Others went overboard. We are fishing a few out of the water, but two crewmen are missing, and one is dead.”
Rezkin nodded. He had expected worse.
“Ah, there is more. It is about Lord Malcius and Knight Yserria.”
Rezkin’s gaze hardened. “What is it?”
“They are missing. One of the crewmen remembers them coming out of the cabin just before the first strike. We believe they were thrown overboard, but we have found no evidence.”
Rezkin turned to the mages. “Can you search the water for them?”
Wesson waved toward Mage Threll. “That is her expertise.”
Nanessy shook her head. “I am holding the water back from multiple leaks, in addition to the ward on the hull. If I were at full strength, I could search the immediate area, maybe fifty yards in every direction, but no more.”
Captain Estadd said, “The current is swift here. What sails we have left are preventing us from being pulled back into the bay. If they have been in the water since the onset of the attack, they will be beyond her ability to detect by now.”
“That is assuming they are still alive,” said Rezkin.
“Well, yes, but I did not wish to say—”
“We should not avoid the truth because we do not like it.”
Estadd nodded to the other ship. “We could take that one to look for them.”
“No,” said Rezkin. “It would take time to transfer ships, and Malcius and Yserria will have been swept that much farther. We also do not have enough personnel to sail both vessels, and the people on the other ship cannot be trusted.”
“What do you want to do?”
Before Rezkin could answer, Celise came streaming across the deck. She knelt at Wesson’s side and held him in her arms. “My puppy! You were not in the room, and I think you are on the deck in danger, and I am so … um …”
“Frightened?” said Mage Threll.
“Um … I do not know is this the word,” said Celise as she hugged Wesson. “I am scream inside my heart.”
Rezkin watched as she stroked the battle mage’s hair and cooed at him in sweet words and soft tones. Why anyone would genuinely express such weakness for all to see was beyond him, and Wesson did not seem to appreciate the affection. After a few minutes, the battle mage shook her off, claiming he needed to help with the repairs.
Rezkin knew Captain Estadd, who was hollering orders to the crewmen at that moment, was still waiting for an answer. What was he going to do? He doubted Malcius and Yserria had survived the attack, but he felt an obligation to look for them. He had no idea how he would find them, though, considering the size of the bay. It took weeks to cross under ideal conditions; and, by the time temporary repairs were made, Malcius and Yserria could be anywhere.
He said, “Captain Estadd, these temporary repairs, how much can we expect from them?”
The man rubbed his beard and glanced at the broken mainmast. He said, “If the mages are any good, we can limp to port in Ferélle—Havoth, maybe. I would not risk being out any longer than we must. One storm and we will all be swimming with the nereids.”
“Very well. See to the repairs. Shezar and Lus will take a team to secure the other vessel. The journeyman will go with them.”
“Do you think that is a good idea?” said Mage Threll. “He is very upset.”
“You know there are at least a few mages on that ship. He can handle them. I will be in my quarters.”
Rezkin entered the cabin and took the steps to his berth. Once there, he searched the entire room and was frustrated when he did not find his quarry. He sloughed his wet clothes and put on a dry set then sat on his bunk. He said into the air, “Bilior. Bilior, where are you?” He stepped over to the porthole and again called, “Bilior!”
He knew the ancient would still be aboard since it seemed to follow him everywhere. He turned from the porthole and nearly collided with a face bearing orange eyes. The tree creature had stretched to Rezkin’s height and was staring at him intently.
“Your part of the deal is broken. Two of my companions are gone, and we have not yet secured our sanctuary.”
Bilior’s feather-leaves shook, and the sound of thrashing limbs suffused the room as he leapt backward. “We are here, and they are there; but safe they be, among the we.”
Rezkin felt a shudder of relief. “Where are they?”
“Uspiul did save you, with Hvelia in his embrace. Water to air so that you may live. He did bring your metal scepter, the blade that makes you king of men.”
“What are Uspiul and Hvelia?”
“Wind and air, Ancients of Ahn’an they be.”
“And they have Malcius and Yserria?”
The katerghen’s arms wrapped around his truck, and he shivered to the sound of raindrops on a pond. “With you, not they.”
Rezkin felt his frustration rising, and the stone on his chest began to heat. “Then, where are Malcius and Yserria?”
“With the lessers of the sea, they be,” said Bilior as he tilted his head curiously to one side.
“These lessers are sea spirits, like the nereids of legend?” Bilior looked at him as his leaves twirled in the breeze from the porthole. Rezkin said, “Can they can bring Malcius and Yserria here?”
The creature shook again. “Nay, the sea is strong, the lessers weak. Shift them, guide them, toward the tide. On land they set them free.”
Rezkin sat back on his bunk. “The coast is long, and they will not sit still. Even if we found their landing spot, they will be gone.” He looked at the curious katerghen. “Those were Ashaiian ships. It was a demon controlling that sea creature, was it not?”
Sounds of lightning and rain echoed around the berth. “Daem’Ahn spread, in human host, Seeking you, in shadow, the shattered light.”
“What does that me
an?”
Bilior shook in silence and did not explain. He began to shrink, the wooden flesh sprouting fur, the browns and greens turning to a mottled brown and black.
Rezkin frowned. “I do not like it when you take Cat’s form.”
Then, he thought about what he had said. Why did he care what form the creature took, and why did it bother him that it was the form of his cat? He donned the guise of Dark Tidings, strapping the mask to his belt, and headed toward the main deck. Then, he paused. He had not checked on Frisha. She had been angry with him when he had not sought her after the attack on Cael. He headed back toward her berth and rapped on the door.
“Yes?” Frisha said as she opened it. She looked at him in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t expect you. Is everything okay?”
“I thought to inquire as to your well-being,” he said.
She blinked at him, and then her eyes began to well with moisture. She abruptly slammed the door. Rezkin stood there confused. Was she angry with him for checking on her? He started to go when the door opened again.
“Wait. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that,” she said. “I mean, I did, but I shouldn’t have. Um, is everything okay?”
Rezkin decided not to attempt to figure her out and instead focused on her question. “No, actually. Malcius and Yserria are missing.”
“What!” she shouted as her face drained of color.
He held up a hand, hoping to forestall her panic. “I have reason to believe they will reach shore safely, but we do not know where. We must continue to Ferélle and let them find their own way for now.”
Her next expression was suffused with anger, and Rezkin was fascinated with how quickly a person could pass from one emotion to the next. “You can’t leave them! They’re all alone—out in the ocean! They don’t have any supplies, and they’ll be lost. We must go after them!”
He shook his head. “We cannot, Frisha. The ship is badly damaged. We must get to port where we can make repairs. Malcius and Yserria were swept by the current in the other direction.”
“How do you know where they are? How do you know they’ll reach land?” she said with tears streaming down her face.
“I cannot explain right now, but I do.”
“That isn’t good enough, Rezkin. Secrets! Always more secrets. I’ve already lost Palis, and who knows about my parents and Uncle Marcum and Aunt Adelina and Uncle Simeon and Aunt Pethela. They could all be dead. I can’t lose Malcius, too!”
“Connovan said he got Marcum and—”
“Connovan? You trust Connovan now? You don’t know that he’s telling the truth.”
Rezkin glanced down the short corridor and lowered his voice. “I used the mage relay in Lon Lerésh to check with some of my people. I do not have any information on your parents yet, but the Jebais and Marcums are together, and they are safe for now.”
“Your people. What people are those?” She stepped forward, poked a finger at his chest, and hissed, “Thieves and murderers? Malcius and Yserria are good people, and you will leave them to die in the sea.” The door slammed in his face a second time, and Rezkin was left wondering as to the benefits of checking on her.
Chapter 14
Malcius awoke to his head being torn apart. It throbbed as the ripping subsided. He shivered, his body frozen, yet his skin felt hot. He tensed as the ripping attacked again and then gasped as ice slithered over his flesh. Then, he began sputtering, ejecting the tiny shards of glass that had filled his throat and dried his mouth as they crunched between his teeth. Crusty flakes stuck to his lashes as he peeled his eyes open. Above him was nothing but blue. The ripping returned, and he braced himself. Cold water sloshed over his chest and up his nose, forcing him to roll over as he coughed into the sand. He swallowed hard, hoping to keep from losing whatever might still be lurking in the empty chamber that was his stomach. His fingers gripped the sand, becoming tangled in red seaweed.
“Ow! Let go of my hair,” croaked a feminine voice.
Malcius blinked several times before finally recognizing the image in the sand. “Yserria. Are you well?” At least, that was what he tried to say, but it came out sounding like rocks sliding down a ravine.
“I-I am not sure,” she said. “Everything hurts.”
Yserria sat up and surveyed their surroundings as Malcius examined her for injury. Her long, strawberry hair had come free of its usual braid and was caked in sand. She had a few bruises and cuts, but most looked too old to have been caused by their current predicament.
“You train too hard,” he muttered.
“You do not train hard enough,” she said as she tried, and failed, to stand.
Malcius helped her sit back up and said, “Just give us a minute to recover, will you? Where do you think we are?”
“I don’t know,” she said as she pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I am trying to remember what happened.”
Malcius rubbed a sore knot on his head. “We were coming out of the cabin when the ship suddenly lurched. I remember grabbing you, but … I don’t know what happened after that.”
Yserria stared at the ocean. “Do you think the ship sank?
Malcius could not even consider it, so he said nothing.
“Rezkin will come for us,” she said.
“Maybe,” he said as he examined his clothes. His overshirt was torn and hanging in pieces, but he at least had both his boots.
Yserria began checking her armor, which seemed to be in good condition, and Malcius wished he had been wearing his when the ship was attacked. She said, “He always says that protecting his friends is his first priority.”
Malcius discarded the pieces of his torn shirt. “Yes, but I can also see him saying that we should be capable of fending for ourselves and getting back to Cael on our own.”
Yserria looked as if she would argue. Then, she simply sighed. “Yes, he would say something like that.” She turned to him, her words forestalled when her gaze caught on his chest. “What is that?” she said.
Malcius glanced down and realized, with relief, that he still had the amulet containing her life stone. “That is none of your concern,” he said. “If anything, it should have belonged to Palis, but it is now my curse to bear.”
“A family heirloom?” she said as her gaze returned to the sea. “I have none but my father’s sword,” she said as she patted the scabbard at her hip. “The strikers tell me it is too long and heavy for me, but it is all I have of him.”
“Well, now you have that, too,” he said with a nod.
Yserria reached up to grasp the torque Rezkin had yet to remove. “Why do you think he insists I wear it?”
Malcius gave her a reproachful look. “You know why.”
She smirked. “He does not have those kinds of feelings for me.”
Her objection seemed a bit too quick to him, but he decided to let it go for the time being. Instead he said, “Where do you think we are?”
She looked at the sky, squinting into the sun, and then back to the ocean. “We are on the south side of the bay. Since the surface current flows east, we could be in eastern Ferélle or Lon Lerésh. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”
Malcius stood and brushed some of the sand from his soggy pants. “Alright, we will travel west. If we are in Lon Lerésh, we can cross the River Rhen and catch the next ship to Uthrel in Esk.” Malcius stated the plan with confidence, but he was quaking inside. He had no idea how they would manage any of what he had suggested. His doubts were compounded by the ambiguous look she was giving him. “What?”
“There are three echelons between Kielen and Ferélle. We could be in any one of them. It may be a long walk. Also, if we are in Ferélle, we will be traveling the wrong direction.”
She sighed and then began stalking down the narrow beach that was lined with forest on the landward side. Malcius collected the discarded remains of his shirt. Rezkin had taught him to never leave evidence of his passing behind. He grabbed a long stick from t
he brush and followed Yserria. Tall palms and flowering bushes offered shade as they walked. Every once in a while, he found an interesting seashell or piece of coral to collect, using a piece of his shirt to wrap the small treasures. He felt comfort in owning something even if he knew the shells to be of little or no value.
His stomach grumbled. “We need to find food,” he said.
Yserria kept walking.
“Hey! Did you hear me? I said we need to find food.”
She spun, opened her arms wide, and said, “Do you see any food here?”
Malcius scowled. “It would be better to look during the day.” He pointed to the forest and said, “There might be fruit—coconuts, maybe.” Then, he pointed to the ocean. “We might catch fish.”
Yserria put one hand on her hip and pointed to the palm tree. “I’ve been looking. There are no coconuts on these trees.” She then pointed to his stick. “Do you know how to spear fish?”
With his blood heating, he snapped, “No, I have never had the pleasure.”
She said, “It is not yet midday. We can walk for a while and hope we find civilization. If not, then we will start foraging.”
“What makes you think you’re in charge?”
She stalked over to him and flicked his ear.
“Ow! What the—”
“We are likely in Lon Lerésh—where women rule. I outrank you by law. You are not in Ashai anymore, Malcius Jebai. If you try to act your usual boorish self around these women, you will be lucky to be flogged.”
“How is being flogged lucky?”
“Compared to the alternatives?” she said. Then, she turned and once again walked away from him.
Malcius grumbled to himself as he followed. Of all the people in the world, he had to be stuck with Yserria. He would even have preferred Reaylin. At least she could have eased the pain in his head. Yserria only made it worse. He knew, though, that she would likely have died if he were not there—not because of any heroics or skill on his part. No, her life was dependent upon him solely because he bore the life stone that carried a piece of her soul, and Rezkin had forbade him from telling her about it. At least if he did, he would have something to hold over her head. He mentally slapped himself for the horrible thought. It would be evil to use someone’s own soul against them. He would protect the stone with his life, as Rezkin had asked, and she would never know of the favor he had done for her—no, the favor he had done for Palis.
