The Remedy (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  “The Seahorse pirates are loyal to the King,” Edru said. “The Ryn will be safe.”

  Julien gave a quick nod, but his scowl lingered, letting me know that it wasn’t the unknown enemies of the seas he feared so much as the flirtations of our handsome young captain.

  “He’s my cousin, you know,” I reminded him, even though it gave me a little thrill to know he objected to other men flirting with me.

  “Your distant cousin.” His jaw clenched, sending the short golden hairs at the tip of his triangular beard jutting outward.

  I looked away to hide my smile.

  A kiss of sweetness scented the air, a fragrance I had not noticed when coming through Tirandov’s fog the first time.

  “It is the lilykelp,” Edru explained. “It has just begun to bloom.” He gasped. “Forgive me, Princess Rynnaia. I’ve grown so attuned to listening to your thoughts during our lessons that I infringed upon your privacy. My deepest apologies, Your Highness.”

  “Accepted.” I smiled at my tutor’s suddenly pale face. “In truth, Edru, had you not brought it to my attention, I would not have even noticed.”

  I had become fairly adept at camouflaging my thoughts while on Tirandov Isle, but since I had been so happy to receive the well-wishings of the people on shore, I had let the guards on my mind dissolve. Now that we were deep within the mystical pinkish fog that shrouded Tirandov’s bay, the Andoven were out of sight and I had no desire to give a window into my mind.

  Mentally, I reached for strands of gray within my mind, the technique by which I could mask the colors of my emotions in a formless cloud. In this way, I could retain some privacy, at least, and prevent those with similar abilities from peeking into my mind. It took very little effort to guard myself thus, but as new as my abilities were to me, I often forgot to maintain the boundary. Considering the company we were about to join, I was glad to be reminded.

  Captain Cazien de Pollis had a bit of Andoven blood himself, I had discovered, and he had proven himself entirely too intuitive for my comfort level the last time I had sailed aboard Meredith. There were some things I’d just as soon keep to myself, and although it was considered extremely bad manners for an Andoven to listen in on another’s thoughts without permission, Cazien was, after all, a pirate. I wasn’t sure he recognized Andoven etiquette. Or any sort of rules, for that matter.

  It wasn’t long before the fog began to thin and I could just make out the shape of the pirate vessel awaiting us. Although I had been seen by all the pirates aboard Meredith before, my existence was still unknown to most of E’veria. King Jarryn—my father, I had to keep reminding myself—wanted to keep it that way at least a bit longer. To that end, I pulled my hood over the flaming copper hair that had marked me at birth as the prophesied Ryn Naia—ancient words my parents had chosen to combine to name me.

  The current gently bumped us against Cazien’s ship. Ropes slapped down toward us with a loud thwump. After Julien and Dyfnel secured them to the rode hooks, Julien hollered up, “Solid!”

  Julien moved to the seat plank directly across from mine and offered his hands. “Hold on.”

  I gripped his forearms as he did mine, but the first heave still jarred me. And the second. With each tug of the rope my stomach jumped into my throat and then fell to my feet just as swiftly before finding its rightful place again.

  When I finally looked up—for I’d found that looking down was a mistake—it was only to find my “distant” cousin, Captain Cazien de Pollis, grinning at me.

  “You’re looking a little green, Rynnaia.” He laughed. “And you haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet!”

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  Like me, Cazien had been born to his position, and though only a matter of months older than my nineteen years, he’d captained his own ship for several years already. Just as Julien worried about my cousin’s definition of danger, I couldn’t help but flinch a bit at the thought of what he might consider “fun.”

  As soon as the bottom of our boat was level with the railing, Cazien jumped up so that his feet were on the ledge of the side of the ship and his shins pressed against the rail.

  “Here we go, Princess. Now stand up, turn toward me, and put both of your arms out in front of you.”

  I let go of Julien’s arms and did as the captain commanded.

  “Steady her if you would, Sir Julien.”

  Julien shifted to sit behind me. He lightly rested his hands at my waist.

  Cazien peered around me. “I can trust you to let go of her at the proper time, yes?”

  “Of course.” Julien’s voice was tight.

  “Good. Now lean toward my sweet Meredith, Rynnaia, and . . . trust me.”

  At that, I had a moment’s pause. But that brief moment was all I had time for because three pairs of sun-bronzed hands gave the side of our boat a giant outward push that introduced my stomach to my spine. We swung out so far I could see the water below and then back toward the rail. As soon as my arms were level with Cazien’s he slipped his hands in their crooks and pulled.

  As the deckhands pushed the longboat for another outward swing, my feet flew out from under me. Cazien lifted me up over the rail and swiftly down onto the deck with the same grace that might have been affected had we been dancing in the Grand Hall at Holiday Palace instead of boarding a ship in the middle of the sea.

  “I have to hand it to you, Rynnaia.” Cazien winked at me. “Most of the lasses scream the first time.”

  “I’m not like most of the lasses then, I guess,” I said, lifting my chin in defiance of the scream that still begged to be released.

  “No.” Cazien’s eyes shone. “You most certainly are not.”

  Julien’s feet hit the deck beside us. My eyes widened. “You jumped?”

  He nodded. “I’ve done it before.”

  The sailors gave the boat another swing.

  Julien put his hand at my elbow. “We should move so Dyfnel and Edru have enough room.”

  I scurried out of the way.

  He turned to Cazien. “Do you know the state of things on the mainland?”

  Cazien’s expression darkened. “Port Dyn is still secure, but Luce has not faired as well. When last we were in port, Luce was nearly overrun by Dwonsil warriors, the blasted traitors. They might’ve taken the city by now.”

  “And the Cobelds?”

  “Not that I heard, but it is possible since they’ve allied with the clans from Dwons. I aim to return shortly after I deliver Rynnaia to her father.” He paused. “It’s rumored that the men of Dwons are now wrapping their arrows with hairs from Cobelds’ beards.”

  “What?” Julien’s eyes widened.

  “It’s said that the Cobelds speak the curse, pluck out the hair, and wrap it around an arrow. The Dwonsil warriors wear gloves to avoid contact with the cursed hair. But when they fire their bows, even a flesh wound becomes deadly.”

  “‘Divided beard will grow its purse,’” I whispered. When Cazien arched an eyebrow in my direction I repeated the phrase. “It’s a line translated from the scrolls we took to Tirandov,” I explained and then turned to Dyfnel, who had been deposited on the deck by one of Cazien’s burly sailors just in time to hear Cazien’s report. “Do you think Lady Anya foresaw that the Cobelds would give hairs from their beards to the Dwonsil warriors and be able to cause more damage?”

  His brow furrowed. “If does seem to match meaning to that verse of the prophecy.”

  I nodded. “Perhaps the ‘purse’ is whatever the curse gives them. Its payout, so to speak. When a hair of the beard is given to a Dwonsil warrior, it goes farther than it would if used only by a Cobeld. ”

  “Indeed.” Cazien said. “But even after all these years, I still can’t understand why the men from Dwons would want to secede from E’veria. Ah, but that is why I stay out of politics.” He shrugged and the darkness in his eyes brightened. “At least we can be thankful that Port Dyn is still secure. And now that Rynnaia is equipped for he
r quest, all will soon be put back to rights and the Queen will take back her throne.”

  I nodded, grinning. “I can hardly wait to— What did you say?”

  My mouth fell open. I closed it.

  “How do you know about my mother?” I had thought the Queen’s survival had been known only to my father and the Andoven at Tirandov. “Did the Andoven tell you?”

  Cazien smirked. “How do you think Queen Daithia arrived at Tirandov Isle all those years ago if not delivered by a Seahorse captain?”

  “But you would have been a baby!”

  Cazien laughed. “I’m not the first Seahorse captain, Rynnaia.”

  I sensed a familiar regret from the Andoven physician and turned toward him. “Dyfnel? You were there.” My statement entailed a command that he tell the story.

  Dyfnel nodded. “We kept your mother hidden—”

  “We?”

  “Your father and I. We kept Queen Daithia hidden at Holiday Palace until she’d recovered enough from your birth to be moved. Your parents feared that even if the Cobelds believed you had died, if it was known the Queen had survived the curse, even as ill as she was, they would worry she and the King would eventually produce a Ryn.”

  “But couldn’t she have been kept hidden at the palace?”

  Julien put a hand on my shoulder. “The Cobelds infiltrated one of the most secure fortresses in the world that night, Your Highness. If they’d done it once, they could do it again.”

  “At the time it seemed a better course to perpetuate the illusion of their success,” Dyfnel said. “The Cobelds would have no reason to seek the death of a Queen and Ryn who were already dead.” He sighed. “Perhaps our logic was foolhardy, but we had little time to formulate a plan to guarantee your safety. It was all rather quickly decided. Captain Pollis left with you the night you were born, delivered you into the care of Lady Drinius, and then returned to Port Dyn for the Queen.”

  “Captain Pollis.” I turned to Cazien. “So it was your father who helped us?”

  “My mother.”

  I gaped. “Your mother was captain of a pirate ship?”

  “Aye,” he nodded. “The fiercest ever upon the seas.”

  “But wasn’t your father—?”

  “My father is not affiliated with the Seahorse fleet.” He looked away. “If you’ll excuse me, Princess Rynnaia, I have duties that need my attention.”

  Without waiting for a reply—not that I expected him to—Cazien stalked to the bridge, and after a few barked commands from our Captain, Meredith was out of the strangely still Andoven waters and on to the choppier waves of the Southern Sea.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Julien followed me to the railing where I joined Edru in watching the antics of dolphins swimming alongside the ship. Suddenly, a few small sparkles of light within the waves caught my eye. I grabbed Julien’s arm.

  “Look!” I pointed to the glittering wave. “Enikkas!”

  Had it been only days ago that I’d learned of these beautiful creatures’ existence? I had spent weeks studying the history of E’veria and the many names of the First King, Loeftryn de Rynloeft, but it wasn’t until I swam with the enikkas, the tiny creatures of comfort and light, that I understood why the First King, long dead but undeniably present, should be interested in me.

  So much had changed within me following that swim with the enikkas in the Bay of Tirandov. That night, The First had claimed me as his own.

  As I had claimed him.

  “Aren’t they exquisite?” Somehow my grip on Julien’s arm had moved downward and my hand now rested within his.

  Julien squeezed my fingers. “They are. I will never forget that night.”

  “I’m so glad they stayed so you could swim with them, too.”

  “Swimming with them was remarkable,” he said. “But the radiance on your face was even more beautiful, more unforgettable.”

  When I looked back at the water, the enikkas were gone.

  We were both quiet for a while, staring into the water, seeing what only memory could recall. Finally, he spoke. “Would you like to sit down?”

  I thought about it. “No. I think I’d like to walk a bit.”

  Walking was my plan, and other than navigating around the occasional barrel and pile of neatly coiled rope, there was little to keep me from it.

  I was surprised to find Cazien not at the helm, but sitting on the upper deck. A board on his lap held a book, a ledger of some sort, and in his hand, a quill moved at a quick pace.

  I stared at Cazien’s hand as ink flowed onto the page in neat, rhythmic strokes. Something about the sound of his quill against the page sparked a memory, moving it to the forefront of my mind. As the quill scratched its inky design, I closed my eyes, remembering an otherworldly experience I’d had during a brief stopover at Julien’s ancestral home on our journey to Tirandov Isle.

  I had found an old book of poetry in my guest bedchamber at Fyrlean Manor. It bore no title, nor did it name an author, but reading it had triggered the release of one of my more unusual Andoven gifts. Somehow, as I read the poem, the words grabbed hold of my Andoven blood and transported me—or at least a part of me—across time, allowing me to experience an ethereal visit from E’veria’s long-dead heroine, Lady Anya, as she wrote that very poem.

  Lady Anya, also known as the Oracle of Mynissbyr, had once led an army against the Cobelds. She was Julien’s ancestor, his many-greats-grandmother, but she appeared to me as a young woman with coal black hair and eyes every bit as bright and green as Julien’s. It was from her I first learned of my quest.

  The scrolls we had taken to Tirandov Isle were antique texts also penned by Lady Anya. But unlike the book of poetry I had read at Fyrlean Manor, they were written in the Ancient Voice, a nearly dead language, which was why we had needed the Andoven people’s help in translating them.

  The scratching ceased for a moment. I opened my eyes to find Cazien had paused to dip into the inkwell.

  I forced my mind back to the scrolls and kept walking. As the rhymes pressed more heavily upon my mind, my path became shorter and shorter.

  Nine marks stand guard to guide the way.

  Three tasks upon the Ryn will prey.

  Death stalks the path with fierce desire,

  and a counsel of four will strike the pyre.

  The scrolls went on, of course, to describe the nine marks and three tasks in riddles worthy of a Veetrish Storyteller, painting frightening pictures that, while not quite clear enough to understand, held such imagery of danger that it could nearly still the blood. I only hoped that when we came upon the landmarks they would be easily recognized.

  But I had my doubts.

  “You’re going to wear a hole through my deck if you insist on pacing like that, Rynnaia.”

  Cazien’s voice was so near that I assumed it was in my head. I paused and looked up to the deck, expecting to see him at the wheel of the ship. Instead he was immediately to my right, perched on a barrel. He gazed at me with a strange intensity that belied the smirk on his face.

  The pirate’s head was uncovered today, his black hair tied back with a leather strip at the nape of his neck. The cloudy sky gave an almost blue tinge to his black curls and brought out more of the white flecks in his ice-blue eyes, so startling against the deep bronze of his complexion.

  My eyes took the path from Cazien to the bridge and back. To move from the bridge to the deck he would have had to practically brush right by me. How had I not noticed him?

  “I thought you were—”

  “Devilishly handsome?” He waggled his thick black eyebrows. “I know.”

  “Well, you’re half-right,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

  Julien snorted.

  Cazien just laughed. “You seem rather deep in thought, cousin. Might I ask the direction of your worry?”

  “I was thinking about the scrolls.”

  “Ahh.” Cazien nodded, and setting one arm across his waist, he rested his right elbow in his lef
t hand and flicked the little patch of hair beneath his lip back and forth. Flick, flick. Flick, flick. “They’re tricky little rhymes, aren’t they?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “The scrolls speak in riddles, with imagery that will likely be impossible to decipher until we actually see it.” My shoulders dropped as I exhaled a heavy breath. “And there is a bit at the end that is rather odd. It’s written by the same pen and ink as the rest, but in our modern language. The rest of the poetry had to be translated from the Ancient Voice.”

  “True.” Cazien nodded. “But that bit at the end confirms Lady Anya was an oracle as well as a poet, yes? And it explains your visitation from her at Fyrlean Manor.”

  “Exactly.” I had told Cazien of my time-bending experience the last time I’d sailed with him. “But still, it was so . . . peculiar. And . . . lovely.” Almost three months later, that experience still left me awestruck whenever I pondered it.

  “How do you know about the postscript?” Julien’s voice was strangely cold and layered with suspicion. “Did the Andoven tell you?”

  Cazien shifted and looked away as if he was suddenly uncomfortable. “Not . . . exactly.”

  Julien crossed his arms at his chest. His expression, while seemingly neutral, seemed to carrythe mildest hint of a threat. “Care to elaborate?”

  Rather than answer Julien’s question, Cazien looked at me. “Rynnaia, did you know that Lady Anya was once a passenger on this very ship?”

  “She was?” I looked about. Cazien’s ship hardly seemed old enough to have been around two hundred years ago. “Surely you jest.” I laughed. “A ship can’t survive two hundred years!”

  “Ah, but a Seahorse vessel can. Especially one as unique as Meredith.”

  “Don’t change the subject, Captain.” The threat in Julien’s voice was a bit more pronounced this time. “Tell us how you know the contents of the scrolls.”

  “Patience, knight. I’ll get to that.” Cazien shot an irritated glance toward Julien and then turned back to me. “One of Lady Anya’s dearest friends happened to be the wife of a Seahorse captain,” he said, “and she made several seaward ventures with them. On one of those voyages, they entered into a mutually beneficial,” he paused and I sensed a certain amount of unease in the phrase, “agreement. Together, they devised a plan by which the scrolls would be protected.”