by P. D. Kalnay
“Hi.”
“I heard rumour you plan to take ship, two days hence?”
“Yeah.”
“In spite of our… poor beginnings, I wish you luck and safe voyage.”
He sounded as if he meant it, but I didn’t have Ivy’s built-in lie detector.
“Thanks, we’ll be back when we’ve figured out how to return Janik.”
“Knight’s Haven will always welcome you.”
Sir Rathel made a half bow and stepped aside to let me pass.
Weird, but at least it was a civil conversation, and no fighting had followed. I told Ivy about my strange encounter at dinner.
***
“A dozen knights arrived aboard the Starburst,” Ivy said, “but the Order is still woefully under-manned. They’d be fools to shun an ally, and the Houses won’t simply admit defeat.”
“Do you think they’ll try another attack?”
“Unquestionably, the unknowns are how and when. They have made two quick, inexpensive attempts to take back the island. I expect their next move will be more considered and on a grander scale. Others may also make claims on this island. I told you before it is a keystone to both wealth and power.”
“Should we do something?” I couldn’t imagine what.
“We are leaving. The workshop, which is the most important part of Knight’s Haven, remained secure for many centuries of occupation, so I’m sure the things Marielain Blackhammer left behind will be safe enough. As for the rest, it falls to the Order to better safeguard the island. If they are incapable of doing so, then perhaps they aren’t meant to hold it.”
“They haven’t done a great job so far.”
“No, they squabbled among themselves and were lax in searching the first ships. As I understand it, the Order has implemented new measures to improve security. Regardless, it isn’t our problem. We have enough to deal with.”
She wasn’t wrong. We already had enemies aplenty before coming to the Knight’s Haven. Ivy knew way more about current events on the island than me. I needed to pay better attention and ask more questions.
***
The next day I took my boat over to the pier, or rather Ivy drove while I rode beside her. The band of inscribed iron that I’d added to the tiller was similar to the controls on the ovens in our kitchen, and a person didn’t need the ability to affect enchantments in stone or metal to use them. It was basically a magical remote control for the two pumps that anyone could use—with my permission. I’d added a final enchantment, following One’s instructions, so that nobody else could drive off in our boat.
Ivy took us alongside the Starburst. I loosened the bolts that clamped the mast in place and the crew hoisted it onboard. Then they lowered two thick rope slings, and Ivy and I worked them under the ends of the boat. Soon we rode up the side of the ship before being swung over to an empty spot in the middle of the aft deck. Once the keel hovered an inch from the deck, we jumped off. Then the crane lowered the boat gingerly onto one side. Crewmen secured it with rope and covered it with a tarp, followed by more rope.
It looked secure enough to survive a tornado.
***
We spent our final evening on Knight’s Haven enjoying a huge dinner with One and Two out on the balcony. They didn’t eat, but they kept us company. I wracked my brain, trying to think of any detail I might have missed or thing I’d forgotten to pack. We likely wouldn’t be back for years—possibly many years.
“Jack, are you well?” Ivy asked.
“Sorry, I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
“If I’d forgotten anything.”
“We’re taking a large amount of coin with us, and will surely pass through places where we can buy necessities.”
“I was thinking more the stuff in the shop. Can you think of anything else that might prove useful?” I asked One.
“No Master, except myself.”
One had offered to come along to share his stored knowledge, which would be invaluable, but after losing Three—and Marielain’s journal—it was too risky. They were amazing, but One and Two weren’t all that tough. I had a huge stack of maps in a sealed box on my boat. Ivy and I would have to figure out things as they came our way. It also seemed wrong to leave Two alone on Knight’s Haven.
“Too risky,” I said for the umpteenth time. I turned to Ivy. “If we weren’t in a hurry, I bet I could build a flying machine that worked. Then we could go wherever we wanted, fast.”
“That’s crazy, Jack.”
“Why? Marielain had a crack at it, and I know way more about planes than he did. It’s doable.”
“The reason people don’t fly here isn’t because it’s impossible or unthinkable. I’m not the first person to travel to the Seventh World, or to the Sixth, where flight is commonplace.”
I hadn’t considered that.
“Then why hasn’t anyone built an airplane here, or at least blimp or hot air balloon?”
Ivy shook her head; all she said was, “Dragons.”
“Dragons?”
“Dragons have claimed the skies of this world, and sharing isn’t in their natures.”
“I thought there’re hardly any dragons.”
“Few, but a single dragon goes a long way. They often destroy whatever crosses their path… even flocks of birds if the mood is upon them, or so I have heard. Those races able to fly do so cautiously.”
“Burning birds from the sky seems…”
“Seems what?”
I tried to come up with the proper word, “Undignified, maybe.”
“Dragons are, by their very nature, unpredictable. They are Morantal’s descendants.”
“He was the first dragon, right? What does that have to do with being unpredictable?”
“I’m uncertain I can explain the theory properly. My education ended shortly after I began to study what little is known of the titans.” She turned to One. “Do you contain the Scroll of Relain?”
“Yes Mistress, but…” he looked to me.
“You’re free now,” I reminded him. “Tell us what the scroll says.”
“The scroll outlines The Theory of Creation, Chaos, and Destruction, Master. Relain Galeborn Aerantial postulated that some titans were instruments of creation, led by Delanor the Smith, and that others were instruments of chaos led by Morantal the Black. Each camp balanced the other allowing both the creation of the universe and its continuation in a state of constant change and rebirth. Each provided half of the greater whole.”
“And destruction?” I asked.
“A third camp came later, led by the Destroyer. Relain proposed that the Destroyer broke from creation and gathered followers for a new faction devoted to annihilation—a return to the pristine darkness of the beginning. An unheard-of alliance between Creation and Chaos formed to stop the Destroyer before all was lost. This is all conjecture, Master… other theories have been postulated.”
“You’re saying that dragons exist to break things, so new things can be made?”
“That is essentially what Relain proposed, Master. He considered the Destroyer to be an unfortunate anomaly in the fabric of creation.”
“I don’t have time to build a flying machine of any kind,” I said, “so it’s a moot point, and I doubt theories concerning stuff from billions of years ago will come in handy.”
***
The next morning we said our final goodbyes to One and Two before shutting the doors to the workshop. Most of our supplies were on my boat, but we each had a bundle of clothing and our personal weapons. I had my hammer and shield, and Ivy carried her bow and a quiver of arrows. She had her bees, so I figured the arrows were mainly for show. Nobody saw us off or waved goodbye as we made our way to the pier. Sailors bustled around the gangplanks, carrying the last barrels and crates on board. I’d never been to sea on any world and was excited.
The captain greeted us as we stepped onto the main deck in the middle of the ship.
“Prince Jakalain, P
rincess Ivangelain, welcome aboard the Starburst. I’ll show you to your cabin.”
He led us to the back of the deck, down a few steps, and through a low doorway. It was dark inside the ship, but not so dark that I couldn’t navigate the narrow hallway. Our cabin was at the back of the ship with windows that filled much of the one outside wall. Most of the immigrants coming to Knight’s Haven had made the journey in the hold of a ship or had slept on deck, but Ivy and I would travel in style.
Ivy had bargained for a spacious cabin and comfortable beds. I was still unsure why she specified only a single room, but our cabin had plenty of space for two with narrow bunks built into the walls and many drawers and cupboards. The latter would go unused, since we owned limited wardrobes.
I looked at the harbour through the tall windows. The glass had imperfections like in old buildings on Earth. They were the first glass windows I’d seen on the First World. The windows in Marielain’s place were unglazed, although enchantments kept stuff out.
“I trust this will suffice?” the captain asked.
“It will serve and meets the requirements of our agreement. Can you show us the rest of the Starburst, if you aren’t too busy?” Ivy asked.
“My crew know their jobs. You can leave your belongings here if you wish.”
Our tour of the ship took a good half-hour. The Starburst wasn’t one of the larger vessels to have docked at Knight’s Haven, but it was plenty big, with three decks up top, and many levels inside, along with the various holds that held cargo. The Starburst was spotlessly clean and scrubbed to within an inch of its life. The many books of seagoing adventure I’d read indicated that things being ‘shipshape’ boded well. Much of the tour took us through dark, narrow passages, ill-suited to a big guy with wings. By the end, I wasn’t sure I knew where everything was, but we’d have plenty of time to become familiar with the ship. As with most of the vessels I’d seen on the First World, the Starburst had a crew of mixed races, although over half were Valaneese.
After the tour, the captain returned to the top deck and shouted orders for the crew to raise the gangplanks and untie from its berth. Sailors scurried across the decks like ants whose hill had been kicked open. The rest manned two longboats up front, towing the Starburst with herculean effort and at glacial speed.
When the Starburst achieved a short distance from the pier, they raised sails, and winched up the longboats from the sea to hang off the sides. The peaks of Knight’s Haven blocked the strongest winds, but the ship picked up speed as it crossed the harbour. Ivy and I stood at the front to stay out of the crews’ way and to get the best view.
Slowly and with nothing in the way of drama, we left our island home. Even from the high deck of the ship, the sea gates towered above us. They closed as the ship cleared the gap. It seemed the knights weren’t taking any more chances.
I couldn’t help thinking that their caution came a little too late.
“Here we go,” I said to Ivy.
She’d returned to her natural green colouration and wore the green dress Frithanzel made.
“Yes, here we go. I wonder if we’ll ever return.” She glanced back at the half-closed gates.
“We will,” I said.
Ivy looked up at me curiously. “What makes you say that?”
I wasn’t sure, but I was certain we had unfinished business on the island. Ivy nodded when I told her that.
“Then I shall trust your instincts,” she said. “Though they have proven unreliable for everyday matters.”
“True, but they work for the big stuff…”
“Yes.”
“Why’d you only bargain for the one cabin?”
Ivy had never shown an interest in sharing a room in the apartment.
“There are plants that grow tall and straight without the least bit of tending, but others need constant pruning to reach their full potential. Left alone… they grow crooked and stunted.”
“You’re planning on pruning me?”
“I’ve decided that I won’t let you out of my sight again. We are betrothed,” she rested a hand on her necklace, “and we have other bonds and agreements. I let myself forget that although I may be yours, Jakalain Moonborn Talantial, you are most assuredly mine.”
I didn’t know exactly what she meant, but Ivy wanting to spend more time with me was what I wanted, so it was all good.
“Lyrian said–” I cut off at the angry glare Ivy gave me.
“What did that woman say?”
It looked as if our moment had passed.
“She said I could compel you through the necklace, but she lied about so many things that…”
“In that, at least, she spoke true,” Ivy said. Then she shrugged.
“You knew?”
“Of course—how could I not know? The real question is how you could not know.”
“I didn’t know what I was doing when I made it,” I said. “Why did you accept it?”
Lyrian also told me that anyone would want the power of the necklace, regardless of the price paid to get it, but I didn’t believe that of Ivy.
“Will you compel me, now that you know?” Ivy asked.
“Never,” I said. “I’ve done stupid things, but I’d never do that!”
Ivy’s smile was like a spear of sunshine stabbing through the middle of a thunderstorm.
“And that, My Jack, is why I returned the necklace to my throat. I accepted it for the petals—not the bees.”
“Huh, what about those other bonds and agreements?”
Her smile widened, and she turned back to the sea ahead of us.
“You aren’t going to tell me?” I asked.
“Not today. You wrote the contract; I merely agreed to it.”
That didn’t seem fair.
The Starburst turned west, the sails filled with a thunderous boom, and a proper wake formed around the prow below us. I knew Ivy well enough to be certain she wouldn’t tell me more, so I moved to the very front of the ship and spread my arms, and wings, wide.
“Jack.”
“Yeah?”
“If you say that you are king of the world—I will push you into the sea.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I lied, looking back over my shoulder.
Ivy hadn’t enjoyed Titanic, even though she’d picked the movie herself because it was listed under Romance. I’d never liked it either, but for different reasons. Ivy’s main dissatisfaction stemmed from the dishonesty and illicit relationship. She was a strong believer in keeping one’s word and loyalty—things I liked about her. I didn’t like Titanic because I wasn’t a fan of Leonardo DiCaprio or cheesy romance. The special effects were pretty good.
“To begin our voyage in such a manner would be inauspicious,” Ivy said.
“I was just enjoying the sea breeze.” Ahead, somewhere in the distance, I sensed far stronger winds than those around us. “I think we might be heading into a storm.”
“Yes—we should enjoy the calm while it lasts.”
Chapter 5 – The Maelstrom
The first week aboard the Starburst was glorious. The sun shone every day, and we spent those days sitting on the front deck, often with legs dangling over the side, talking, and watching the sea. Neither of us suffered from sea sickness, and it was like taking a vacation with Ivy. Sea creatures made regular appearances, providing us with entertainment as schools of fish, often filling the sea to the horizons, swam up around the ship. The variety of shapes, sizes, and colours were so beautiful—and for me so alien—that we watched them in silence for as long as they stayed near the surface.
Ivy had taken a single sea voyage, but she’d been unconscious for the trip, so life aboard ship was new and exciting for her too. The crew joked about our fascination with fish. My only complaint, in those first days, was an unease deep in my core which grew as we sailed west. When I mentioned it to Ivy, she explained that it was the longing that all fae feel for their truest place in the world and a natural result of leaving Knight’s Haven.
It wasn’t painful or anything, just a nagging wrongness—lurking at the back of my awareness.
The sea creatures were fascinating, both for their colours and their diverse shapes and sizes, and they provided endless distraction. I’d seen plenty of nature documentaries filmed by scuba divers among Earth’s most stunning coral reefs. Those fish swam up to visit us.
Often roving predators threw the vast schools into turmoil, and a new show took place below our dangling legs. Shadows tore through the living rainbow creating chaotic swirls of colour and clouds of dark blood. That was cool too. If the schools of fish were akin to herds migrating across a soggy Serengeti, then the predators were the prides of lions they met along the way. I never tired of the salty, death-filled safari and was never temped to go for a swim.
A few of those shadows rivalled the Starburst in size.
Captain Danar said the giant predators were the reason his crew only fished with lines and hooks instead of dragging a net behind the ship. We ate delicious grilled fish for dinner every night. When I examined some of those fish before the cooks cleaned them, any illusion that they might have been terrestrial fish vanished.
One species we’d seen swimming in large numbers was emberstrikes. Emberstrikes were as long as both my arms outstretched and striped in shimmering orange and black scales. The pattern reminded me of a tiger’s stripes, but those fish would’ve eaten tigers for breakfast.
A few days into our voyage I got to see one up close and personal. When the crewman who’d hooked the fish saw what he’d gotten, he called out for help. Another man told him to cut the line, but the determined fisherman wasn’t willing to admit defeat. An hour of battling the ferocious fish followed before it was landed on deck by a half-dozen sailors. The fish flapped and snapped its impressive mouthful of razor-sharp teeth at anyone who came close. A sailor pinned the big fish to the deck with a long spear while Ivy and I watched from a safe distance. I hadn’t noticed Captain Danar standing beside us until he spoke.
“An unnecessary risk,” he said, “but emberstrike make a fine meal.”
I started at the sound of his voice, almost in my ear.
