The Remedy (Eyes of E'veria)

by Serena Chase

  “What sort of agreement?” I asked.

  “The captain swore a Legacy Oath to ensure the scrolls’ survival. The oath bound not only him, but every future Seahorse heir, to complete a specific errand until the prophesied Ryn had come of age.”

  “An . . . errand?”

  “Each successive generation was charged with finding, collecting, preserving, and re-hiding the scrolls to ensure they would survive until the appointed time of their discovery.” He took a breath. “And, always, the heir was sworn to refrain from revealing that knowledge to anyone, even the next generation, but for three clues that the Seahorse heir was to be given prior to beginning his or her errand.”

  I blinked. “How . . . elaborate.”

  “You have no idea.” One dark chuckle bounced off the pirate’s chest. “But it would appear Rynloeft blessed the oath, because the scrolls were preserved until the prophesied Ryn was ready to complete her quest,” he said with a wink in my direction.

  “You knew?” Julien stood. “You knew where they were all along?” Julien clenched his fists until his knuckles turned almost white with the strain. “All these years my family has searched for the scrolls, hoping they might lead us to the Remedy, and the entire time, you knew where they were?”

  Julien’s hand moved to his sword. In the same instant, Cazien slid off the barrel, his hand on his cutlass. But neither man drew his blade.

  I took a step back. Suddenly, every sailor aboard the ship had his hand resting near some sort of weapon.

  “Answer me!” Julien roared.

  Cazien’s eyes flashed, but his words betrayed no emotion other than marginal boredom. “You would do well to consider to whom you bellow, knight, and to whose mercy you may someday need to appeal.”

  “And you should consider that I represent the interests of the King of E’veria and the Ryn,” Julien spat his reply. “Did you not realize that the scrolls you went to such pains to keep hidden are a map to the Remedy? If I find that you’ve withheld information that could have saved our Kingdom from the horrors of the Cobelds, I won’t care what little boat you sail on. I will lead you to the gallows myself.”

  Sparks of silver and red flashed in the periphery of my thoughts, seeming to come from every direction at once. Julien’s derogatory comment toward Meredith had launched anger into the thoughts of every sailor within earshot, though they didn’t show it outwardly. They all mirrored the bored, even slightly amused, countenance of their captain.

  “The gallows you say? On what . . .” Cazien’s voice paused and then dimmed as the vowels elongated his final word, “…chaaarge?”

  The young pirate’s back was to me, but— Oh, he did not just yawn, did he?

  One look at Julien’s livid face confirmed it.

  My knight’s eyes narrowed. “You, Cazien de Pollis, are a traitor.”

  “A traitor?” Cazien laughed. “How can I be a traitor to a King who is not my sovereign?”

  I reached a hand out to Cazien’s arm, but he rotated his shoulder as if to shrug me off. “Stay out of this, Rynnaia.”

  Julien’s voice lowered, becoming even more dangerous. “You will not speak to E’veria’s Ryn with such disrespect.”

  “Captain,” Dyfnel said as he came alongside me, “perhaps further conflict could be avoided if you explained the Seahorse Legacy a bit.”

  Dyfnel took my hand from the pirate’s arm and led me a few paces away.

  Stay back, he spoke to my mind. Just in case they come to blows.

  “Fine.” Cazien took a deep breath. “Much like Her Highness here, I was born into my position,” he began. “I inherited it from my mother, who inherited it from her father, and back a long way through history until you get all the way to Brennon de Andov, who married Meredith E’veri, for whom this ship was named.”

  “That far back?” I blinked. I had studied my genealogy in the library on Tirandov Isle and learned that Meredith E’veri was the youngest daughter of Stoen, a Knight of The First and the one who succeeded Loeftryn de Rynloeft himself as King of E’veria. Brennon, however, would also be a distant ancestor of mine. He was the second son of Andov, another Knight of The First and the first Regent of Tirandov Isle.

  “Yes, cousin. That far back,” Cazien said. “From the first child born to the union between Brennon and Meredith until this present day, the Seahorse heir is assigned a task, an errand, if you will, to be completed before he or she is able to officially take over as Admiral of the Seahorse Fleet and Monarch of Eachan Isle.”

  He shot a glance at Julien, a reminder that, at least politically, Cazien de Pollis was on equal footing with my father.

  “Part of my errand, as with several generations before me, was to find where the Lost Scrolls of Anya had last been hidden and to then move them to a new location, as revealed to me by,” he paused, “the other part of my errand. In addition, I was sworn to never reveal what I knew of them until—”

  Cazien’s monotone recitation abruptly cut off. He shrugged, but the momentary clenching of his jaw argued with his nonchalance. “Until now, I suppose you could say,” he said finally. “In any case, I completed my errand. When my mother sailed to Rynloeft, I took my place as Admiral and Monarch and stayed true to my legacy.”

  I tilted my head. “Your mother sailed to . . . Rynloeft?”

  Rynloeft was a word most often heard in association with the First King of E’veria, Loeftryn de Rynloeft. Yet it also referred to a place. The place he had come from. A place I had been taught was unreachable while yet alive.

  Cazien’s nod was accompanied by a gentling of expression. “That’s how we sailors refer to death, Princess.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.”

  He waved a hand.

  “When, might I ask,” Julien’s voice was low and his eyes had darkened to a deadly shade of green, “did you complete this ‘errand’ of yours?”

  Cazien shrugged. “About four years ago.”

  “But you knew the Ryn lived.”

  “Yes.”

  “And Captain Pollis knew as well.”

  “Of course.”

  “In other words, when last I sailed upon this ship, along with King Jarryn and my father, you two pirates held life and death in sway over the Queen—nay, the entire Kingdom?”

  A muscle twitched in Cazien’s neck. “I would prefer,” Cazien spoke softly, but his fingers once again rested on the grip of his cutlass, “that you would not speak of the Seahorse Legacy in that tone. It is as dear to me, if not dearer, than the oath of the Bear-men of Mynissbyr.”

  Julien’s sword was out in an instant. “Our oath is to find the Remedy and to see that the Cobelds are defeated. Your legacy is the exact opposite! It could cost our Queen her life! She’s dying from the Cobeld curse, Cazien. She needs the Remedy!”

  I had not marked when Cazien lifted the cutlass from its place at his side, but the tip of his blade now touched Julien’s.

  “And that is a difficult truth to accept,” Cazien said. “But even Daithia’s death would not remove my responsibility to serve my legacy.”

  “But if you’d given the scrolls to the King, the Remedy might have already been found!”

  “You have read the translations, haven’t you de Gladiel?”

  Julien gave a stiff nod. He and I had passed many hours studying them, committing them to memory while on the isle.

  “Then you know at least a few of the dangers your Princess will face when she seeks the Remedy. I think even Queen Daithia—perhaps especially Queen Daithia—would agree that Rynnaia was not yet ready to begin her quest at the time I completed my errand. Indeed,” Cazien scoffed, “even a Bear-man of Mynissbyr would not have sent a fifteen-year-old girl—nay, would not have presumed to send anyone who had not yet sworn fealty to The First—to defeat the Cobelds.”

  I sucked in a breath. He knew about that? But it was only three nights past that I’d swam with the enikkas and sworn my fealty to The First!

  “How do you know about that?”
r />   Cazien spoke into my thoughts. Even the sea, as mysterious as she is, could not keep such news to herself, Rynnaia.

  I blinked several times, attempting to understand how water could transport a memory—especially one so recently made—to him. Was he able to speak to . . . the sea? Or had he somehow communicated with the enikkas themselves? I would have asked, but Julien’s anger arrested my attention.

  “A knight would not have hidden something so important, so vital to the Kingdom’s survival, from her King!”

  “And yet your King hid the Ryn from his entire Kingdom!” Cazien shot back. “Blast it, man! Are all knights so vain as to believe they the only ones whose decisions are dictated by duty?”

  Julien snorted. “You speak to me of vanity?”

  “I am bound to my legacy in ways you cannot imagine,” Cazien hissed. With each word the pirate pressed forward until the two blades crossed just inches between his and Julien’s chests. “I’m as bound to it as Rynnaia is bound as the Ryn. To have gone against what my legacy demanded would have meant rebelling against The First himself.”

  With a twist of his sword meant to disarm the knight, Cazien stepped back, but Julien turned at the same time, spinning a full circle until his blade rested at Cazien’s neck.

  It was then I noticed a second blade in Cazien’s left hand. And the flat of it pressed under Julien’s chin. For all Julien’s superior size, it appeared he was equally matched in skill. This could not end well.

  “Stop it!” I stepped forward. “Drop your weapons. Now!”

  With a scowl that ground his teeth almost audibly, Julien complied. I was a bit surprised at that until I remembered who I was.

  “Cazien . . .” I warned.

  “I’m afraid I don’t take orders from you, Rynnaia.” His words were lit with a lighthearted smile that I assumed was meant to needle Julien, who by nature of his oath, was required to obey my command.

  A closed-mouth growl escaped through my teeth.

  “But I do like you,” Cazien acquiesced, “and it pinches my heart a bit to see you so upset over our little squabble. I will, of my own free will, of course,” he added, “decline the opportunity to injure your loyal knight.” In a flash his weapons were stowed.

  “Thank you. Now clasp hands and part as friends.”

  Julien shot me a look of disbelief, as did Cazien.

  “Clasp. Hands.” I repeated, crossing my arms. “We are friends. Allies, at the very least. And we will remain so, regardless of whether or not we understand the other’s motivation or deeds.”

  Julien closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them he took a step back and held out his hand.

  Cazien!

  The pirate jumped ever-so-slightly when I shouted into his mind.

  “Oh, fine.” He clasped Julien’s hand and gave it one solid shake. Both immediately retracted.

  By Rynloeft, it was like dealing with my brothers, fighting over the last bit of pudding!

  “Again,” I said. “And mean it this time.”

  Cazien was the first to offer his hand this time. “Friends?”

  Julien clasped it. He gritted his teeth and nodded. “Friends.”

  “Good,” Cazien said after they repeated the oh-so-manly shake again. “You know, I achieved my part of this particular Lady Anya business to the letter. If anyone is at fault,” he said, tossing a wink my way, “it’s whoever took so long to find the scrolls.”

  “I didn’t find them.” I wrinkled my nose.

  “I know that,” he said, making a comical face. “It couldn’t be you.”

  I opened my mouth and a little sound of offense escaped. “And why not?”

  “Because,” he said, while waggling his head and crossing his eyes, “you’re the Ryn!”

  “Truly, friend,” Julien said as he sheathed his sword, “your vanity knows no bounds. Now you place blame on my sister?”

  At Cazien’s confused expression, I said, “Julien’s sister is the one who found the scrolls.”

  “What?” Cazien’s face paled beneath the color the sun had wrought upon it. He blinked. “Erielle?”

  I tilted my head. “You know her?”

  “My family accompanied the King on a voyage once,” Julien said.

  Cazien nodded. “Years ago.” He turned back to Julien. “Truly? Your sister found the scrolls?”

  “Yes. In a cave in Mynissbyr. Behind Brune Falls,” Julien said. His lips pressed hard together in the instant before he added, “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t know . . .” Cazien shook his head as if dazed. “I knew where the scrolls were, of course. I put them there. But I didn’t know who found them. I thought . . .” He looked at me. Blinked. “I thought the prophecy was wrong.”

  “Wrong about what?” I asked. He didn’t answer. “Cazien?”

  “He speaks of a different prophecy, I think,” Dyfnel said.

  Cazien shook his head—a brief, violent shake as if a fly were on his nose. He pressed his hands to his temples. In that unguarded moment I caught a rare swirl of color and emotion, but only one stray thread I could define amidst his normally indiscernible thoughts.

  It is decided, then.

  And whatever it was, he was none too happy about it.

  “What’s decided, Cazien?”

  “The rest of my life.” His tone was droll, yet held a vague sense of futility. He blinked, and not even a swirl of gray was left for me to see.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The mood aboard Meredith was tense for most of an hour before I tripped on a pile of rope and a nearby sailor began to sing about a clumsy girl who stumbled upon a treasure chest of jewels. At first I was embarrassed to have inspired the man to sing, but there was something refreshing about being around people who weren’t my subjects. As the other sailors joined in, the humor of the lyrics soon had me laughing along with everyone else. I sensed no disrespect from their teasing, only the good-natured fun of camaraderie and an acceptance without regard to my rank. The song, though sung at the expense of my pride, served to relax the tension that had crept into my shoulders during Julien and Cazien’s disagreement. I was almost sad when it was over.

  I stood at the rail with Edru, but followed Julien out of the corner of my eye as he made his way to the bridge and spoke to Cazien. When Cazien slapped him on the back and I noted the smile on Julien’s face, I breathed a little easier. He joined Edru and me a few moments later.

  “I still have a hard time justifying the pirates’ omission,” he said after a long silence. “When I think of your mother, of how she’s suffered all these years . . .” he trailed off. “But I handled it badly. And for that, I apologize. I have also apologized,” he said carefully, “to our captain.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “But I must admit I thought your arguments valid. I don’t understand Cazien’s legacy. Perhaps I’m not meant to,” I sighed. “But he’s right in at least one thing. I wouldn’t have been ready for this quest four years ago.” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “I’m hardly ready for it now.”

  “I’m not sure anyone could truly be ‘ready’ for something like this, but The First is faithful to insert his strength into the places we are most weak. If he has set you on this quest, he will see it through.”

  We were quiet for a long while, gazing at the sea. But every now and then, I found my eyes had wandered to the knight at my side. The mist and breeze from the sea had made Julien’s dark blond hair curl a bit tighter than usual. He stood at the railing, his back to me and his feet set as wide as his shoulders, as his gaze traversed the sea, seeking a possible threat to my safety. He looked very much the part of the fearsome warrior, as, I suppose, befitted his position as a knight of the King and the future Regent of Mynissbyr.

  “Switch out the colors, lads!” Cazien called from the bridge. Moments later, the sailors’ cloaks had been turned inside out, placing the blue fabric, embroided with a serpentine seahorse design, inward. Now facing outward, the
“lining” of their tunics was a dull tan color, reminiscent of the tunics and surcoats worn by crews of merchant ships. Likewise, the blue Seahorse banners, which had waved proudly from all three masts, had disappeared, replaced with the innocuous red-and-white stripes of a merchant ship. As I gazed toward the bow, even the masthead looked different. The smiling feminine form, rough hewn and worn, was suddenly unfamiliar.

  Trying to keep Julien’s tension from seeping into my mind, I moved to the railing near the ship’s bow. As I stood there, I recognized that something was different about Meredith’s figurehead, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what.

  “Another part of the Seahorse Legacy, I think.” Edru came up beside me. “I have studied it as well and I cannot seem to recall what has changed, though I know it is not the same figure it was before. Ah, well.” He turned and walked away.

  I closed my eyes and tried to picture the figure that had graced the bow of the ship this morning, but I couldn’t.

  Open your eyes, Rynnaia. Cazien whispered into my mind.

  I did and found him right beside me.

  Watch.

  He climbed over the rail, causing my heart to lurch, and leaned out to touch the base of the figurehead. At his touch, a dull film seemed to fall away and the flawless craftsmanship of Meredith’s true figurehead was suddenly revealed.

  “This is the image of Meredith E’veri,” he said. “Your ancestor and mine.”

  She was a fiercely beautiful woman. Her hair, carved of wood, but so expertly that it looked caught by the wind, flowed out behind her as she leaned over the neck of a—

  “What is that thing she’s riding?”

  “A seahorse of the Gilled Cavalry.”

  “I thought seahorses were small,” I said. “Like the one on your chain.”