The Ship of Tears_The Legend of the Nine_Part One

by T. J. Garrett

  As if reading his thoughts, Sek said, “Bar’deth is too powerful to leave his fate in another’s hands. And if he gains access to the Sand Tower, if he can secure the last Godstone for himself…” He let that idea float in the air, then said, “When all said and done, there can be only one complete Godstone, Gialyn. If he takes what he has gathered and links the four shards, we will have nothing with which to fight the Voice of Uld. We must claim the spirit shard for ourselves, which means, we must put an end to Bar’deth’s plans.”

  Gialyn remembered what Setuni said, that he had until the next moonrise to decide if he wanted to join them in their hunt. He had no doubt the Fe’roc was telling the truth, and if he said no, they would go without him. Could they win their battle without his help? Likely not. Oh, they could fight the Karakin where they could find them, but they would need someone with the Voice and the Power to track them down, take the Fe’roc through Arenthenia to pursue their prey. Without his help, they might eventually prevail, but could he afford to wait that long? Could the world afford to wait?

  “You could take Setuni with you,” Sek said, apparently, once again, reading Gialyn’s thoughts. “I’m sure she would enjoy a hunt through Bailryn.”

  Gialyn laughed. “And I’m sure the king would welcome a pack of giant cat dragons in his city.”

  “He will, if you tell him why you are there. As you have made perfectly clear, we cannot track the man through a city. You are right, dragons are only of real use out in the field, but the Fe’roc, they can go where you go. We must put an end to him, Gialyn, and only you are strong enough to fight a black raic with three Godstone shards.”

  The dragon was right, he had to find Bar’deth; but there was so little time and so much that needing doing. Was he right about the Fe’roc, would they agree to help him hunt Bar’deth. Likely not, they seemed to relish the thought of hunting the Karakin. But should he not at least ask Setuni?

  “I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Gialyn said. “If nothing else, we can Travel through Bailryn on our way to Bly. She might agree to wait a day or two while I deal with Bar’deth.”

  “While we deal with Bar’deth, you mean,” Shiroku said. “You’re not leaving me behind.”

  “All right, while we deal with Bar’deth,” Gialyn said, and smiled at the little woman.

  Sek looked as if he was going to add something to the conversation, but a purple flash drew their attention toward the lake.

  “Who’s this?” Toban said. “Are you expecting visitors?”

  The portal was big enough for two horses to walk abreast. The purple haze said someone was coming through Arenthenia, but Gialyn was not expecting anyone, and did not think the witches would spring a surprise visit on them.

  “It’s not another watcher, is it?” Shiroku said.

  “I don’t think so,” Gialyn said. “But be ready for anything.”

  He had just gotten to his feet, and was about to pull his dagger, when Olivia stepped through the portal. A moment later, Gialyn was surprised – no, shocked – to see his mother step into the firelight. His broad smile faded when he saw the look on his mother’s face, and turned to a grimace when he noticed the scare on her cheek. Cold dread washed over him. This was not a surprise visit, something had happened, something bad.

  * * *

  There were no happy greetings, and the hug Gialyn gave his mother felt awkward. She was worried and, judging by the red rings under her eyes, she had been crying. Gialyn first thought was something had happened to his father. When Mairi said Daric was fine, he knew why they had come.

  “It’s Elspeth, isn’t it?”

  A stone the size of a mountain landed in his gut when Mairi did not say no.

  “Is she dead? Is that what you are telling me?”

  Just saying the words felt like a hammer to the chest. She could not be dead, not now. He was here to change all that, wasn’t he? Follow the dragons and save everyone; that is what future Gialyn had said. He had been old in that vision, at least thirty. She couldn’t be dead now.

  “We don’t know,” Olivia said.

  The princess did not look much better than his mother did. Worry had made dark shadows under her eyes and she was pale and thin, her skin covered in half-healed sores. The other girl, Anooni, just sat quietly, her hands in her lap, looking down into the fire.

  “How can you not know?” Gialyn said. “What happened?”

  Olivia told him a tale of how they had travelled north to free a group of witches enslaved by this Lady Zill Elspeth had mentioned. They had thought everything had gone to plan. They had destroyed the ship, freed the wet witches, and captured Zill’s guards. But when Olivia could not find Elspeth, she had gone back into the ship, found some sort of machine, and Olivia had watched as Elspeth, “Disappeared in a flash of light.” They had questioned some of Zill’s guards. From what information Olivia could gather, she thought Elspeth and Zill had been sent back in time, to a world before the Rama had built the pyramids. Gialyn did not care about any of that. All he heard was a flash of light and sent back in time.

  “So she’s not dead then?” he said.

  Olivia glanced at Anooni, then turned back to Gialyn. “We don’t know, but she has gone. With no way back, she’s likely living in the past.”

  “This Zill woman would not have gone if she did not have a way back,” Gialyn said, anger in his voice.

  “Maybe so,” Olivia said. “But if she does have a way back, we don’t know what it is. And now the ship is destroyed. The machine, the thing that sent them back, is gone, too. One minute it was there, the next, nothing.”

  “Maybe the machine followed them back,” Gialyn said. “That will be how Zill plans on returning.”

  Mairi reached out a hand to him. As pleased as he was to see her, he did not want sympathy; he wanted to go to Toi’ildrieg, find what was left of this ship, then find who invented this machine and force them to build another.

  Elspeth on her own, three hundred years in the past. How could this be? It was more than he could take in, his mind would not accept it.

  “We have to go back. Maybe there is something you missed, some portal, or a thing like the Ways. She can’t just be gone without a trace; there must be something left.”

  Olivia was shaking her head. “The ship is empty, Gialyn. And not just the machine. Every plank of wood that had touch it, every nail, every piece of rope, all gone. Even the stairs vanished. The middle of the ship is just a big hole. Or it would be, had the tower not collapsed on top of it. There is nothing there, I promise you that. Elspeth is gone. If she comes back, it will be of her doing. There is nothing we can do to help her.”

  Gialyn leaned back against the shed. Head in hands, he tried to ease the headache that threatened to blur his vision. There must be something they could do. He could not just leave her there, three hundred years in the past.

  “Perhaps we can go to the library,” Mersius said. “There might be a record of her.”

  Gialyn wondered what the boy meant by that. He was about to ask, when there was another flash of light.

  Another portal formed just to the north of the lake, not ten feet from where Gialyn sat. A blue portal, this time, which meant a powerful magic, someone who could use the portal to Travel across the ocean had opened it. As Gialyn watched, an old man stepped out.

  The old man was dressed in fine clothes: black breeches and a white silk shirt. He wore a thick cloak and his boots laced up to his knees. He was maybe fifty, with greying hair and a short beard. In all, he looked like a well to do merchant, but no merchant Gialyn knew had the Power to open a long-distance portal.

  “Is this Atria?” the old man asked.

  Before anyone could answer, the old man pointed at Sek. “Yes, it must be, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “Do I know you?” Sek asked.

  “We’ve met,” the old man said. “A long time ago.”

  Gialyn glanced over at Sek, the black dragon was shaking his head.

  �
��Err, would you like some tea?” Mairi asked. “She gestured for the old man to come join them, and Anooni scooted to the side, leaving a space by the fire.

  “Yes, I would,” the old man said, smiling. “Kind of you to offer.”

  He walked over, then sat cross-legged in the space Anooni had made.

  “I don’t mean to be rude,” Gialyn said, “but just who are you?”

  “A friend,” the old man said. “A friend with a message. Are you Gialyn?”

  “I am,” Gialyn replied.

  The old man handed over a tightly bound scroll. The parchment was yellow, like they sometimes used in the palace library to record royal proclamations and write notes on important meetings.

  Gialyn recognised the handwriting. “This is from Elspeth,” he said, staring at the old man. “Do you know her? Where is she?”

  The man smiled. “Know her? Yes, I do.” He laughed. Then, shooting Gialyn a half-amused, half-pitying look, he said, “She is my mother.”

  CHAPTER 36

  Epilogue

  Diobael sat on the golden chair, eyes fixed on the pool at the centre of the throne room. A brush of soft skin touched his cheek, and he opened his mouth. Latumi collected the breath.

  The Fae Oracle stepped away.

  “Do you have enough?” Diobael asked.

  “For now,” she said, her voice as soft as the thin silk robe she was wearing.

  “Then leave me. I have work to do.”

  Latumi bowed graciously before leaving.

  Diobael turned his attention back on the pool.

  The mist was gathering. Through it, Diobael could see the Silver Dragon. Did she know what he was doing? Likely not.

  With a wave of his hand, the image atop the pool changed to that of the Voice of Uld.

  “Still on the river?” he said to the image. At this rate, it would be years before the Voice of Uld reached the tower. “Time to speed things up, I think.”

  With another wave of his hand, the water in the pool began to boil.

  Two thousand miles and a dimension away, the great red rock which was the Voice of Uld groaned under the strain. For miles around, the earth cracked. The river beneath the lake of fog, once calm and placid, raged under the pressure of Diobael’s will, frothing and bubbling against its banks. The Red fought the change, but it was no good; the Other wanted more speed, and as strong as the Red was, the Other always got what it wanted.

  The end of The Ship of Tear – Part one of

  The Legend of the Nine