“My men at the mine have been attacked by an increase in the number of wild animals; they say it’s worse than just animals, of course. They’re superstitious men,” the trader had told Grange, as the two of them and Asloe’s son Persole had stood on the wooden dock in the warm harbor of Kilau. The passage of time had lessened his belief in demons, which had only strengthened in the wake of the attack on the Queen.
“I expect that you’ll be able to escort the mules inland to the mine, and escort the load of ore out,” Asloe said. “And if you kill a few wolves while you’re there to calm the men down, everything will go smoothly.”
Grange blithely nodded agreement, not knowing anything else he could reasonably say.
Grace stood nearby, as Persole and his father walked apart for their final words before sailing.
Grace came over to Grange. “Don’t try to do anything with your wand while you’re away,” she repeated the message she had drilled at him constantly since
his departure had been announced. “Wait until you see Master Brieed.”
Grange looked at her affectionately. Since the incident with his explosive wand discharge at the palace, Grace had worked hard to try to be responsible. She was showing signs of growing into her job as the court wizard of Kilau he decided.
Bartar was pleased with her position in the court. He had received a message back from Palmland at last, confirming approval of the treaty he had negotiated to open up trade between the two lands. The only thing that remained waiting to happen was for Grange to make a safe shipment of Asloe’s tin ore cargo return from the southern wilderness, and then trade would commence. Bartar and Astel had already returned to Palmland, and with Grange’s departure, Grace would be the only remaining member of the Palmland contingent left in Kilau.
“Don’t you try to enchant the whole court at once,” Grange mimicked her.
She slugged at his chest, striking him with her fist, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him to prevent her from any further attack.
“Wizard! Get up here!” Persole was on the deck of the ship, leaning over the railing calling to Grange.
The two powerful young people separated and stared at each other.
“Be careful, Grange,” Grace said.
“I will, of course. I’ve got my friends to take care of me, besides,” he tapped his forearm to indicate the jewels that were still attached to him. There were two there, the white and the green. Rigan, the black one was in the center of the chest of the protective clothing he wore, while Blue Ariana was in his sword and Red Brielle was in his knife.
“I’ll be back,” he promised. “And I expect you’ll have the court completely under your control by then.”
They kissed one another on their cheeks, as Persole called again, then Grange picked up his duffel bag of belongings and walked up the gangway to the deck of the ship. The crew members and the dock workers cast off the lines that held the ship in place, and began pressing it with long poles to send it into the waters of the harbor as the officers shouted orders to the crewmen and the sails began to fall into place, giving a gentle thrust to the vessel.
Grange carried his bag with him up to the top deck where Persole stood. Grange wasn’t fond of the young man, but didn’t have the instinctive distaste for the trader’s son that he had expected. Persole had fought hard, and outside the rules when the two of them had fought in the tournament. But when not engaged in battle, the budding trader wasn’t so bad. Grange didn’t expect to socialize with Persole, but he recognized that they were going to be shipmates for the two week trip south to Trade Harbor, and the two week return voyage. And between the two trips, Grange and the trader would be companions on land traveling to the mining camp for another estimated two weeks.
“Have a member of the crew carry your bag down to your cabin,” Persole grunted as he watched the dock fall behind the ship, while the other two cargo-carriers began to fall into position behind the flagship of the small fleet.
“I’ll go below and find my cabin,” Grange answered. He could still see Grace standing in her white dress – the adopted Wizard outfit she had decided to wear at court – on the dock. Grange had confidence that the girl would be fine as the wizard of the court. The Queen of Kilau and her people had no expectations of what a wizard could do, so anything Grace did would be an improvement over the past.
He hoped that her cache of amulets would last her a while. He had helped her store energy in numerous objects to create lighting amulets that she had distributed as novelties and gifts to the leading members of the court. That, in addition to her musical healing schedule, and a few small tricks she had performed, had given her a favorable status among the nobility. Grace finally turned and began to walk back to land, just before Grange left Persole’s side and went down to the main deck. A crew member was assigned to carry his bag for him and show him the way among the cramped passages below deck to find the small space that would be his cabin.
Over the next week, Grange suffered and recovered from seasickness, to the amusement of the sailors on the ship. He and Persole and a few of the officers practiced sword work, and staff and spear work – at Grange’s insistence, even though the others considered it to be the use of lowly weapons.
Yet Grange was bored in the remaining hours of each sailing day. He was tempted to play with his wand, but refrained, and instead settled on an alternative activity to practice his wizard powers – he began to charge amulets with energy.
At first he continued to make light amulets, just as he had done for Grace. But when the trio of hulls was becalmed one morning, Grange thought of the energy he had harnessed to move Layreen’s canoe towards Kilau, and he toyed with the idea of trying to create an amulet that would store the energy to move a ship, regardless of the wind, or lack of wind. While the sailors focused on sending prayers to Zephyr, the goddess of the air and winds, Grange borrowed an extra paddle, and thought through the concept of storing energy to move a ship, then used the ancient language as he phrased his request to the power and began pouring vast quantities into the paddle; the sailing ship was many, many times larger than the canoe he had propelled previously, and Grange knew it would require a great deal more energy to move it, even sluggishly.
Grange went up onto the deck of the ship on the seventh day of the trip, and found that the convoy was close to shore.
“We’re heading to a port,” one of the officers answered his question. “There’s a small harbor called Warm Post. It’s in the land of Reapose. This is the last place we can resupply before we begin to sail past wilderness for the rest of the journey.”
Grange stood at the railing and watched for the next two hours as the ships maneuvered their way into the otherwise empty docks of the harbor and were secured. The sailors were allowed to go on shore into the small town that circled around the harbor.
“Why is this called Warm Port?” Grange asked as he pulled on a jacket, protection against the cooler weather they had entered. The air had been cool when he had stood upon the deck while the ship had sailed during the previous day, but he had not anticipated that the land would be cooler as well.
“Because it’s warm compared to everything south of here,” a passing lieutenant answered. “This is the last port that remains ice-free year round.”
Grange gave an involuntary shudder at the thought of such intemperate climates, and especially at the thought that those climates were in his own very near future. He followed the others from the ship – the passengers who were destined to visit the mine and the trading post, some of the officers, and many of the sailors – who disembarked and set out to visit the town.
It was not a large city, but it was larger than any of the villages Grange had seen on the mainland during his journey from the canal prison-camp to Palmland. The harbor front portion of the city was rundown and dirty, but the streets rose away from the water, and within a couple of blocks the buildings grew cleaner and the shops appeared more prosperous,
while shoppers and city people strolled about busily.
All except one man, a man dressed in rags, despite the cold. Grange’s eyes narrowed and his heart momentarily froze when he saw the man stumbling about, accosting strollers to beg for money, then cursing them whether they gave a donation or not.
There was a small demon controlling the beggar. The dark, shadowy hump sat atop his shoulders, easy for Grange to spot.
Grange stopped on a street corner for five minutes, watching the possessed man wander back and forth from one side of the street to the other, begging and badgering. The demon was small, but clearly in control. It seemed either oblivious to Grange or unconcerned about his role as a destroyer of demons, as it drove its victim to continue the unpleasant behavior.
Grange looked around, searching for other demons, checking to see if he was in the middle of an ambush by multiple demons, but there were none in sight – just the one tormentor who was destroying the life of one man while disturbing the lives of others.
Grange changed his route, and moved to confront the demon, his hand held ready on his sword. When the two of them were only feet apart, the possessed man looked at Grange and grinned a deranged smile.
“Do you like what you see?” the demon asked through the man. “Someday soon all the world will look like this, as we take control of all humanity. A man like this will seem like one of the lucky ones. And then there will be no one, as we destroy your race and watch it wither away into nothing.”
“Leave this man,” Grange demanded.
“It is not your place to command me,” the demon's raspy voice replied.
“It is my place to kill you though,” Grange pulled his sword free.
“Not even that, truly. Only a god's power can kill our kind; you and your pretentious sword can only send us back to our dark home of torture, until the great evil turns us loose upon your people once again,” the demon seemed pleased to disabuse Grange of the notion that he could truly kill a demon.
“Well then, I'll send you back,” Grange said grimly. He raised his sword, and as he prepared to swing, the demon leapt away from its unwilling host.
Grange had already begun to slice his weapon through the air, but he altered the intended path of his blue blade to avoid striking the suddenly demon-free man, who was collapsing to the ground, unconscious, as he was freed of his tormentor. The demon left and scrambled away from the site; Grange took off in pursuit of the shadowy dark form, a target that was invisible to the others in the street, causing men and women to shout and scream at the sight of Grange running along with his sword held in his hand.
The demon darted down an alley with Grange in pursuit. It reached the dead end and then turned.
“What you do to me is unimportant. I was sent simply to deliver a message. You cannot win. The god you need is indolent and lazy, too preoccupied with his own appetites to help you, until it will be too late.
“You,” the demon said, “are trying, but you are not capable. It would be better for you to take your own life, swiftly and painlessly, rather than to be conquered and degraded – as you will be, before you are left to die.”
“I may die,” Grange answered, “but you'll die first,” he said savagely, and then he swung his sword, the blue blade appearing to be a cold blue flame as it swept through the air and then through the demon. A bright flash exploded, and the demon was gone.
Grange grimly sheathed his sword, then turned and saw that a small crowd was watching from the mouth of the alley. They dispersed quickly as Grange looked at them, and when he exited from the alley, there was no evidence of which of the folks on the street had been watching the confrontation.
Grange was disconcerted by the encounter with the demon, and the matter preoccupied his mind as he found a small tavern and sat down inside, alone, then ordered a bowl of stew.
He thought about the demon while he ate the meal. The demon had claimed to have been sent with a message, and its behavior seemed to strangely fit with that story. It had called Grange’s attention, and hadn’t tried to battle him or attack him, or resist him in any way. It had delivered its disturbing message, then let itself be destroyed.
Grange remembered the things he had heard earlier, in the temple of Miriam, when there had been talk of a god who had come to Earth to fight against the demons. That too fit in with the demon’s claims, although the story of the god being lazy and self-serving seemed unlikely, just a way for the demon to spread its poisoned message.
The demon had to be scared, and its dark master had to be scared, Grange realized, if the message was intended to try to drive him to commit suicide. He couldn’t be scared from his quest, because he really hadn’t started a quest, he admitted to himself. Other than training the way the jewels had instructed him to, he hadn’t begun to actively fight against the master of the demons; any fights he had been in had been brought to him by the demons.
“Hey!” Bollard, one of the mining managers from the ship entered the tavern, saw Grange, and called out.
“There’s a story around the town that someone healed the local crazy man, then went into an alley and seemed crazy himself. The description sounds a lot like you,” Bollard said as he sat down at Grange’s table.
“Something like that happened, but that’s not exactly it. Is the crazy man feeling better?” he asked.
“They say it’s a miracle. He’s been looney for a month, and now he’s his old self again, but doesn’t remember anything. What happened?” Bollard asked.
Grange considered, and decided to answer. “He was possessed by a demon. I killed the demon, in that alley,” Grange said simply.
“If you don’t want to tell me, just say so,” Bollard said, unhappy with the improbably story.
Grange remained silent.
“You mean you’re serious?” Bollard asked in a shaken voice, as Grange nodded yes. “You can see and kill demons?”
“The demon says I just sent it back to the dark place, but it’s the same as killing to me,” Grange told him in an emotionless voice. “I can see them; it’s a special talent I have.”
Bollard stared at Grange, stunned by the revelation, then tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I’ll see you back on the ship,” he said, then stood, and quickly walked away.
Chapter 19
Grange was left alone by the others on his ship when they resumed the voyage south. He used the solitude to charge two more of the oars with the energy needed to move the large ships. He didn’t have any particular use in mind, or any expectations in general, but it was a way to practice his work with the energy, and it was close to the similar experience of charging energy into his wand. He had told Grace that he wouldn’t do anything with the wand, but the slender cylinder seemed to call him and tempt him every few hours, when he happened to catch a glimpse of it among his small bundle of belongings.
The air grew colder, and Grange realized that he had failed to pack enough warm clothing to withstand the weather they were sailing into. After much internal deliberation, that realization was the justification he used to begin to store energy in his wand after the third day out of Warm Port. He sat in his small quarters and wrapped his clothing around his body, as he focused on using the energy to make himself feel warm, and to store more energy in the wand so that he could use it to create warmth at other times, quickly and easily.
He was disobeying Grace’s injunction on using the wand, he knew, but he only intended to provide enough energy to meet his need for warmth. There could be no harm, he told himself.
Grange sat in his cabin and muttered the phrases that engaged the energy and allowed him to fill his wand with power. He let his mind wander as he watched the glow of the energy that streamed into the powerful wand, and he thought about Shaylee, wondering how she would feel if she were exposed to the prolonged chill of the increasingly cold air the ships were sailing through. The cool weather of Warm Port had decreased in temperature even more as they moved further south, and Grange was sure that nowher
e in Kilau had anyone ever experienced such a chill.
As he sat in his cabin one morning, he became conscious that there were none of the sounds or feelings of motion. There was no evidence that the ship was moving.
Grange set his wand aside, and curiously climbed up the ladder to the deck overhead, where he found that the trio of ships was becalmed, while the ocean waters around them looked as smooth as glass, except for small tendrils of fog that rose from random spots around the ships. He moved over towards where the ship’s officers were conversing, and listened.
“I’ve seen this before. We may have to wait a week or more for the westerly winds to pick up again,” one lieutenant was telling the others.
“That’ll throw all the plans awry,” another one said. “The ship carrying the mules doesn’t have any extra forage stowed for the animals. The whole plan to send the mules to the mine to carry the ore back out depends on having enough feed for them. If they eat all the hay while we’re becalmed, they’ll starve before they return with the ore from the mine.”
“I can help get the ships moving again,” Grange spoke up, causing the officers to look around at him in surprise.
“I can use my abilities to make the ships move, at least for a little while,” he restated.
Since the stop in Warm Port and the rumor of his battle in the alley, Grange had been informally isolated, as the others in the ship avoided him as much as they could. He felt slightly hurt, but had been content to stay in his cabin and work on his warmth, along with his wand.
“How can you do that?” one of the young officers asked cautiously.
“I placed energy in a set of paddles, so that they will propel each ship forward,” Grange answered. “There are three of the paddles.”
Perilous Travels (The Southern Continent Series Book 2) Page 24
