The Ship of Tears: (The Legend of the Nine: Part One) (The Eastern Kingdom Chronicles Book 8)

by T. J. Garrett

  At any rate, no one followed them into the woods.

  Yacob’s friends were a good deal younger than he was. The men in particular did not look old enough to raise the swords they were wearing. Sixteen, Daric guessed; and definitely no older than eighteen. The women – girls – were little better, although one was dressed in tracker’s garb. She, at least, looked like she belonged in a forest. But for all that, she was still too young.

  “I can assure you, Master Yacob,” Nana said. She was walking up front, at the old man’s shoulder. “I have never heard of this Ally. My name is Nana. Nana Duran. I’m Toyan. I have only been to Whitecliff once, and that was for less than an hour. You cannot know me.”

  “If you say so… err… Nana,” Yacob said. “But by the gods, you could be her twin. Couldn’t she, Yosil?”

  The young man at Yacob’s right nodded.

  “Her eyes are different,” One of the young women said. “Not as soft as Ally’s.”

  Yacob looked hard at Nana’s eyes as they walked. “Hmm, maybe. But still, it is uncanny.”

  “Who is this Ally anyway?” Nana asked. “Is she a Toyan, a refugee from the siege, maybe?”

  Yacob shrugged. “She was only here for a few weeks. Saved a lot of people. Some say she died in a skirmish with Breen’s men, but I don’t believe it. You should have seen her fight. No way some trumped up labourer with a pitchfork was getting the better of her. And none of Breen fighting men, neither – I once saw her take on three of em – never even broke into a sweat. It were a sight to see, I can tell yer.”

  “Well,” Nana said. “I’m flattered you would confuse me with such a woman, but as I say, I am Nana Duran. Sorry.”

  “Might we move on,” Aleria said, stepping up and matching her pace with the old man. “Just where are you taking us? We seem to be travelling a long way off the beaten track.”

  “There’s a cave up ahead. We thought you might like to use it for your base. I know you northerners like things like that – bases, I mean. It’s big enough for all, even the dragons, and there’s a stream runs through it.” He glanced over at Gyna. “There’s food for a week, Mistress Dovani. Just like you said; food and blankets and plenty of kindling. You’ll be set up there nice and snug. And then tomorrow, I’ll take you to the lookout. You can have a good look at the manor house.”

  “Look out?” Daric said.

  “Yes. It’s up a big tree. You can see right across to the river, but no one can see you. Covered in leaves, and all that. We used it for hunting, back in the day. I mean, I used it for hunting. Course, we don’t hunt this close to Whitecliff anymore. Not that we couldn’t if we wanted to, there’s just no game. All but the little critters have long gone. Moved west, I reckon. Something in the air, our head priest says. But he’s a bit mad, if you ask me. Still, something made em run away, so who knows?”

  “Thank you for the provisions,” Gyna said. “I am sure all is more than satisfactory.”

  Yacob beamed at the compliment. The blush rising up his cheeks made him look younger, and Daric wondered how a group of mercenary Legites would know one of the Eiras witches.

  “I thought you lot were vegetarians,” Brin said. “Why would you build a hide for hunting?”

  “Only the priests are vegetarians,” the old man said. “Some of the young folk follow the path, but I like my meat too much for all that. And besides, there aint no grain, neither. That which don’t go to Breen’s men, cost too much for the likes of us. When I were last in Whitecliff, a loaf of stale bread cost a krùn. I’ll bet it’s double that, now. And don’t even get me started on horse feed. A course, Breen’s men stole most of the horses, so that don’t really matter, but still…” He shrugged. “No. If it won’t for winter stores, they’d be no food at all. The gods alone know we’ll do come planting time – there aint no one left to dig the fields. I don’t know what Lord Breen’s game is, but if it’s destroying Whitecliff, he’s made a good start. Another year, and the place’ll be a ghost town. They don’t even let ships into the harbour anymore. Not lest they’re flyin’ Breen’s banner.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Brin said. “At that rate, he will starve his own army.”

  That, or he doesn’t plan to be here in the spring, Daric thought.

  “Been a long time since owt Breen did made any sense,” Yacob said. “And you can say that for half a Whitecliff. They’ve all gone mad.”

  Brin nodded. Seemed he had nothing to say to that.

  “What about the women?” Nana said. “The wives, the mothers; are they just standing about watching while their men run off to fight for Breen?”

  “Those that are old enough aint treated no different to the men,” Yacob said. “Old folk and children, that’s all that’s left in Whitecliff these days. Them, and the guards, a course. But most a them are at the dock or out on the road, stopping anyone fool enough to try coming into the city.”

  Which is exactly what happened to Mairi, Daric thought. How could Evin not have known all this?

  His anger at the First Keeper made his throat burn. He thought he might be sick. How could they have been so clueless? And why had they sent a civilian in the first place? Were there no ambassadors?

  Daric pushed down the anger. It would do him no good; he had to come up with a plan, and if he led with his heart, he would likely get them all killed.

  Wait, and use your head, he told himself. Until Mairi is free. Then you can kill the bastard.

  They had been walking for maybe an hour when they found Ban and Lyduk by the stream. Once reunited, they tracked east for another mile, and found the cave entrance just south of the trail, surrounded by tall trees and dense thicket. Yacob was right, it was big. But for all that, virtually invisible, if you did not know what you were looking for. The inside was laid out like a well-established camp, with bedrolls, a fire pit, and a collection of cookpots. The stream ran down the centre of the cave before disappearing into a plunge pool Daric guessed went underground. It was the perfect base with which to plan their next move. And Yacob had been right – Daric did like it.

  CHAPTER 11

  Damari’s Lot: Part One

  “You left the boy with Gialyn and that Krassian tracker? Why would you do such a thing?”

  They were in the White Tower. Damari, who was supposed to be starting her year as a lecturer, was on the fifth-floor balcony, looking out over Larabon and the ancient city of Rajar. From where she stood, she could just about see the ocean. On a clear day, and from the top of the White Tower, she could see the dragon isles. But today was not a clear day, and a hazy view of the coast was the best she could manage. Still, that was why she was staring off to the east. Coln was on that island – she hoped – looking for something that, if they managed to find it in time, may well change everything.

  “You know why,” Damari said. “I had to come back, and Mersius did not want to. You know what he is like; there’s no telling him once his mind is made up. And besides, I trust Gialyn; he will look after him, and Shiroku is an able warrior, and never mind they’ll be with the dragons by now. He is quite safe.”

  “Yes, that’s all very interesting,” Mayash said. “But it does not answer my question. Just why did you have to come back?”

  Mayash was by far the oldest man Damari had ever met. She had known him since her first visit to the White Tower. Back then, the pale old man had been chancellor of the mage school, and she only ever saw him on special occasions. Now, he was retired, apparently, but that did not stop him wanting to know everything that was going on in the world. When she was in the tower, he would come to her for his information. Damari did not mind; the man was a legend, almost a thousand years old, and present at many of history’s most monumental events. The Enlightenment, the Brion Accord, the Eurmac treaty, Eidred’s coronation: the man had seen everything – even if he often attended the ceremonies in disguise.

  Damari just gave him a level look; he knew very well why she had to return to Rajar without Mersius.r />
  Mayash sighed. “This again?” he said. “How many folk must tell you before you start believing the truth? There is no grey dragon.”

  “Silver dragon,” Damari corrected.

  “All right, silver dragon. It’s still not real. Oh, I dare say there is a silverish dragon out there somewhere, but a dragon with the Wisdom of Ages? Now that would just be greedy; bad enough they all want the Knowledge of Ages, to crave a free dose of Ein’laig’s Wisdom… Well, like I said, greedy. Besides, there is no such thing as the Wisdom of Ages; believe me, I’ve looked. And if there were a silver dragon, isn’t she supposed to see the future? Wouldn’t she know you were looking for her?”

  “Not necessarily,” Damari said. “The Wisdom does not allow her into my mind. Should we find her, I dare say she will be expecting me, but that won’t help us in our search.”

  “Us? We? Who else is looking for her?”

  “A friend,” Damari said. “A human, a man who is quite used to dragons. In fact, he should already be on the island. I intend to meet him there, just as soon as I have…” She waved over her shoulder, toward the door to the White Tower.

  Mayash shot her a thin grin. “They won’t let you go,” he said. “You are approaching your seventh year, Damari; it is your time to teach. They never let witches shirk their duty, no matter how important they think their mission is.”

  “Then I’ll just have to go on my mission without their blessing,” Damari said, jaw clenched.

  “And risk exile? You really are mad.”

  Damari let out a long sigh. “Don’t you see?” she said. “It won’t matter who teaches what, or how many folk are working in the tower; if I don’t find the silver dragon, no child with the Power or the Voice will live long enough to learn anything. I have to go.”

  Mayash sighed heavily. Arms folded, he stared down at the tower gardens. “You are talking about that message, aren’t you? The one from the tree woman. What was her name? Ellenna?”

  “Ella,” Damari said, “and yes, I am talking about her message. But not just that; there have been other signs. Indeed, I have suspected for some time, a couple of years; Ella’s message only confirmed my suspicions.”

  Mayash pursed his lips. “Hmm, a couple of years?” he said. “Odd, then, that you did not say anything.”

  Damari tried not to grind her teeth. She had expected this reaction from the council, not Mayash; the old man was always so open-minded.

  “I did not say because of that look.”

  “What look.”

  “The one you are giving me now. The one that says I’m a silly girl and should stop behaving like a fool with a stick up her—”

  “Yes, all right, I get the idea, and I apologise. Of course you should investigate. I just worry at the timing. If you are wrong, you will be expelled, then exiled, never to return. I find that notion somewhat… upsetting.”

  Damari smiled at the old man. “That’s good of you to say, thank you. And who knows, these are strange times, maybe they will let me go.”

  Mayash gave her a sideways glance. “Keeper Kane serves on the Tower Council; do you think he will be in a mood to listen to your argument?”

  “Oh, bloody hell,” Damari said. She had forgotten about that; Mersius’s father would not listen to her; she had left his son with Gialyn instead of bringing him home, like she was supposed to.

  “Bloody hell, indeed,” Mayash said. “With Kane on the council, I fear you will not be granted a hearing, never mind permission to postpone your year as a teacher. Better you resign yourself to that fact now, rather than suffer the disappointment. Next year – you can investigate the Voice of Uld next year. Assuming it is still in Cabash, I doubt it will have gone too far; the Red – that’s what some folk call it – the Red has been there for three thousand years. And even if it did start to move again, it will be decades before it reaches even the Eastern Isles. There is no rush.”

  Move again? Damari told herself. Cabash? Decades before it reaches the Eastern Isles? And the Red? Where did that name come from?

  Apparently, the old man thought she knew much more about the Voice of Uld than she did. Maybe she could take advantage of that.

  But before she could ask her question, the view from the balcony shifted. The mist and fog seemed to lurch forward, then settle. A moment later, Damari felt a strong wave of dread, then something thumped into her chest, forcing her breath out. She could smell summer meadows and something which reminded her of apples. And was that a wagon she could hear?

  Mayash had felt it, too. The old man immediately turned to the east, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

  “Toi’ildrieg,” he said. “The dragon island, or just north of it; some force has left a gap in the Power. How interesting.”

  “How interesting?” Damari cried. “How can you say that? What was it? Have the Karakin moved?”

  Her first thought had been for the so-called spirit wolves; had they found a way off Bly? Where they even now on Toi’ildrieg.

  No, she told herself. They would just be substituting one island for another. Unless there is something they need on the dragon island.

  She knew Toi’ildrieg was a strange place. For one thing, the Voice did not always work there, and the Raekawn Valley was full of shifting currents and conflicting Voices. Never mind that Ella and her tree people lived there. Well, they lived in other places, too, but Toi’ildrieg was where Damari had found them.

  Maybe the tree people had something the Karakin wanted. The entrance to the Ways, perhaps.

  Damari remembered walking through that waterfall and entering that foggy tunnel. They could have gone anywhere. Indeed, instead of Travelling to Bhail, Gialyn had very nearly sent them to Albergeddy. Could the Karakin use the same trick?

  She asked Mayash.

  “I do not think it is the Karakin,” Mayash said. “There is Power there, but not so much as to make me think Ash’mael has moved the spirit wolves.”

  “Not so much?” Damari whispered. “That Power, and whatever had caused it, had been strong enough to thump her in the chest from fifty leagues.

  “Then what do you think it was?” Damari asked.

  The old man chewed at his lip. Rubbing his chin, he said, “A displacement of some sort – a settling. Someone has messed with the past.”

  Damari eyed the mist. What had he meant by, “messed with the past”?

  “You see?” she said. “Now tell me my mission is not important. It has already started; only Diobael would have the Power to alter the past. It must be the Voice of Uld. He is using the old magic, forcing the Voice to Travel back in time.”

  Mayash laughed. “My girl, you certainly do have a vivid imagination. He is not forcing the Voice back in time; at worst, someone has been meddling with a forbidden portal. One of the Cral, mayhap. That we are still standing here, and can remember feeling the Power from that jolt, means they were not successful.”

  “You can’t be sure of that,” Damari said.

  Forcing the Voice back through time; what could that do to the world? Could Diobael rewrite history? And if so, how would they know he had done it?

  “I can be as sure as makes no difference,” Mayash said. “Can you feel that wave? Can you smell the scent of apples in the air?”

  Damari nodded. “And what does that mean?”

  “It means, that although a portal has been opened, no one stepped through. If they had, that past would be part of our living memory, and we would not notice the smell. Do you understand?”

  “No,” Damari admitted. “Not really. And what’s to stop them trying again?”

  Mayash shrugged. “Maybe they have gone through. Maybe the journey killed them.”

  Damari shook her head. “You are not making any sense. Portals, Cral, apples; yes, whoever they are, have passed through; no, they tried, but the journey killed them: you can’t know any of that.”

  Another wave hit them. Softer, this time, barely enough to push Damari’s hair from her face.


  “An aftershock,” Mayash said. “Yes, definitely a time portal of some sort.”

  Damari tried not to bite her lip. Mayash did this sometimes, went on about something he could not prove as if it were written in stone. The fact he was often right only served to heighten her annoyance. But time portals? Why had she never heard of such things, and how could Mayash know so much?

  “I have to go,” Damari said. “You’re right about the council, and it would be a waste of time to appeal to them. And no matter what that thing was, my friend is on the island; I have to go now.”

  “At least try the council, Child,” Mayash said. “Think of your future, think of what this will mean to Mersius and your family.”

  “I am thinking about Mersius and my family,” Damari said. “That is why I must leave now.”

  “One more day. Just wait one more day. I’ll have a word with Kane, maybe I can persuade him to vote in your favour.”

  Damari stared at the old man. She knew what it would cost him to ask the Keeper for a favour – he would owe him one in return.

  “All right,” she said. “One more day. But the following morning, I am leaving, favours or not.”

  Mayash nodded. “Then I best go see Kane.”

  The old man turned to the door.

  “Thank you,” Damari told his back. “You are a true friend, Mayash.”

  The old man did not look back, as he said, “A true friend?” He laughed. “A true friend would likely lock you up for your own safety, child.”

  CHAPTER 12

  To Ship

  “They are supposed to be here,” Olivia said, hands raised toward the harbour. “East dock… pier three. Where are they?”