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

by T. J. Garrett

  Gialyn found himself staring again; thinking about Elspeth. Had she looked tired? He thought so. And she had sounded a little frightened. Should he bring her to Atria? Would there be any point? Wouldn’t they all need to go fight the Voice of Uld – assuming they could find a way to fight a huge rock. What was that Sek had said? “As well try to catch the sun?”

  Catch the sun? Gialyn mused. Well, that was no help. And yet, they had to find a way. Sek had also said, Diobael was controlling the Red, and that it was coming from the east on a course that would eventually put most of the Eastern Isles in its path – assuming, that was, Sek was right, and the Red was aiming for Eiras and the Blue Towers.

  What had Summer said on their way back? Something about the Voice of Uld and the Blue Tower taking up the same space? He still did not understand what all that was about, other than, if it happened, it would be very bad.

  “I think it better we go to them,” Gialyn said. “The Red is aiming for Eiras, we should at least warn them. And the witches might know something we don’t. We should go talk to them; the mages, too. In fact, we should talk to anyone with half a clue of what is coming. We should go through the libraries, talk to the scribes, read the ancient scrolls. There has to be a way to fight that thing.”

  “I told you how to fight it,” Sek said. “The last Godstone.”

  Gialyn sighed. “Let us assume for a minute that we cannot get to the Spiritstone. I mean, gods, they’ve only been questing over the thing for three thousand years; what makes you think we will have any more luck. And besides, finding the last of the Godstones is Arfael’s job. We should concentrate on the Karakin.”

  “Arfael’s job?” Sek said, incredulous. “How has the quest for the Godstones become the Cinnè’arth’s task?”

  “Because he was looking for it before, remember? I told you about the Legend of the Nine.”

  Sek let out a dragon sigh. “More myth than legend,” he said. “Complete nine tasks and receive a magical key to the Sand Tower? Sounds like some story you humans would make up to fill your books and send your children to sleep. Honestly, how can helping a blind man or falling in love or learning how to sing lead to a key to the secrets of Arenthenia?”

  “The Balance,” Gialyn said, as if that were enough of an answer.

  He was not sure how he knew, but he was sure the Legend of the Nine was a quest with the Balance at its core. One man – or woman – complete the nine challenges, and are then so in tune with the Balance that Aregolas himself would allow them passage to the Sand Tower – the last Godstone being the prize. It was a simple enough idea – do good, and you shall be rewarded with a great gift.

  But, of course, it was not that simple. Had it been, someone would already have travelled to the Sand Tower and claimed the prize.

  He said as much to Sek.

  “Which is why,” Gialyn went on, “I cannot be the one to quest for the last Godstone – I would have to start at the beginning, and we don’t have enough time. Leave that to Arfael.”

  “It is quite the prize to leave in the hands of a Cinné’arth,” Sek said. “Wiser maybe if you at least accompanied him on his quest.”

  Gialyn shook his head. “I told you, that’s Arfael’s job. We must deal with the Karakin. They must be gone before the Red reaches the islands; we cannot hope to fight both, even with all your dragons.”

  Sek sat back on his tail. “I may have something that could help us with the Karakin,” he said. “Indeed, if my information is correct, they should be here by tonight.”

  “They?” Gialyn said. “More dragons? I think you have enough. And it is not dragons we need. The Karakin will hide away, skulk through the forests, we need something that can track and fight them on the ground, in the tunnels, in the forests – we need another hundred Arfaels.”

  Sek was smiling. He began to laugh.

  “You know of more Cinnè’arths?” Gialyn said. “But I thought Arfael was the only one.”

  “He is the only one,” Sek said. “And yes, I am talking about dragons. But these are different.”

  “Different? How?”

  “You wait and see?” is all Sek said. “Come to the temple tonight, I will introduce you.”

  Gialyn stared up at Sek. This was not the first time the black dragon had dangled a carrot for Gialyn to jump at. He had a mind to insist Sek tell him of these new dragons; he had seen enough intrigue from the Mages of Lebara and with Elucia’s constant scheming. Why could folk not just say what they meant?

  No, he told himself. Waste of time trying to force it out of him; I will wait until tonight.

  He had to admit, the black dragon had kindled more than a mere spark of interest.

  * * *

  “I’m betting on a wolf,” Shiroku said. “A big wolf, even bigger than the Darkin.”

  “Sek said it was a dragon,” Gialyn reminded her. “And it’s not an it. Sek said, ‘they.’”

  “All right then,” Shiroku said, “lots of wolfish dragons.” She smiled.

  Shiroku loved dragons. Even here, surrounded by literally hundreds of the beasts, most of which were not being remotely friendly toward humans, she still could not stop talking to them and asking for rides and ogling over the many types and sizes and colours. Gialyn liked dragons, too, but he thought of them more like humans – there were some good dragons and some bad ones. Shiroku seemed to think they were all good. It would get her into trouble one day, Gialyn thought. Still, her mood was infectious, and maybe she was right, maybe there was a wolf dragon out there heading toward the temple.

  They were by the lake, cleaning their clothes. Gialyn had only brought one change of breeches and a spare shirt. He had told Elspeth he would be gone a week, maybe less, but that had been almost three weeks ago. He wanted to go home, see Elspeth and his mother and father. He was even looking forward to seeing Si’eth and Bre’ach. But of all that, it was a kitchen he missed most. Properly cooked food made with spices and gravy. Meat pies, mutton, bacon; he even missed potatoes. They had lived long enough on what they could find in the Wet Wood – which was not much, what with the dragons hunting down every dear and wild pig for fifty miles around.

  They took their clothes back to the drying rack, and Gialyn sat down to supper. It was soup, again. More squirrel bits and thin vegetables. He sighed at the sight of it and tried not to smell too deeply. Mersius had made it, and if Gialyn said he did not like the soup, the boy would never again take his turn at cooking. So, instead of complaining, Gialyn made happy noises and smiled at the boy.

  Toban was on the other side of the fire. Gialyn looked longingly at the meaty bone the wolf was chewing – one he had gotten from Drill the small Heran dragon. It was odd to think of dragons eating cooked food, but the Heran chard all their meat. It smelled good, much better than the soup.

  After supper, he pulled the drying rack closer to the fire. These new dragons would likely not care if he wore clean clothes to their first meeting, but Gialyn remembered what his mother had said about making a good impression. He also remembered what Tor had said about dragons thinking most humans smelled bad – which was almost funny, given how bad some of the dragons around the Wet Wood smelled, especially their breath.

  He sat for a while reading a scroll he had taken from the temple and waiting for his shirt to dry. They had an hour until nightfall, and maybe another hour before the black dragon’s new guests arrived. Gialyn wondered if Shiroku was right; could these new dragons be something completely different? There were at least a dozen kinds of dragons around the temple, but all were basically the same: all had four legs, wings, scaled skin, big teeth, claws, eyes at the front of their head, and horns – although the size and placement of the horns differed greatly. But for all that, they were… well, dragons. What could be so different about this new breed that would set them apart from all others?

  Gialyn found himself suppressing a wave of excitement. He had seen dragons that could fly and dragons that could swim, maybe these dragons were like great ra
bbits and could dig holes. He almost laughed at the thought. Rabbit dragons? That was ridiculous.

  Time past slowly, and Gialyn continued reading. It was a boring scroll, something about how the pyramid had been made by laying out stones one layer at a time and leaving the spaces in each layer that would eventually make the rooms. He supposed a builder would find it interesting, but Gialyn thought it a little obvious – all they did was lay one stone on top another; what was so interesting about that?

  Gialyn found he was getting tired. He asked Shiroku to wake him in time to go to the temple if he fell asleep, and closed his eyes.

  He did not dream, at least not in the way he had become accustomed to, but he did see images of a man on a deserted island. To the man’s left, a large group of workers were laying out square stones, each the size of a cart. The man was not helping; he was maybe half a mile away from the builders, watching them at their work. Somehow, Gialyn knew the man had been looking for something, and he was angry at the builders for covering it up.

  A tomb, he thought. An ancient tomb full of treasure.

  Now Gialyn felt angry, too. Did the builders know what they were doing? Were they burying the old tomb on purpose?

  The man was desperate to find something he thought must be down in the tomb, angry enough to kill for it, but there were just too many builders – he would not get close to the tomb without a dozen men seeing him.

  Wait until they have gone, Gialyn suggested.

  The image of the man suddenly turned red, then yellow. He seemed to look right into Gialyn’s eyes.

  “Who are you?” the man asked. “You should not be here.”

  Gialyn shuddered – the dream man really was talking to him. How?

  “Olaris?” Gialyn asked.

  The man’s face turned to bitter rage. “Do not use my name, fool. Don’t you know they are looking for me?”

  “But you are dead,” Gialyn said, “have been for three hundred years.”

  The man – Olaris, Gialyn was sure of it – raised his hand, and Gialyn found himself looking at the image of the finished building the men had been working on – it was the dragon temple. He stepped forward, meaning to get a better look, but someone shook his shoulder.

  “It’s dark,” Shiroku said. “We should go. We don’t want to be late.”

  Gialyn blinked up at her. He did not know what she was talking about. “Late for what?” he asked.

  Shiroku laughed. “Come on, sleepy head. Wash your face.”

  It all came back to him. “Oh yes, the new dragons,” he said.

  “Yes, the new dragons,” Shiroku agreed. “Now, hurry up. You don’t want to put Sek in one of his moods, do you?”

  Someone, likely Mersius, had hung torches all around the base of the temple. The orange glow made the angular stone building seem more imposing, and the interior that much darker. Sek was standing by the opening, a few of his closest companions in a half circle around him. They were milling about like folk waiting for their supper. Were they still expecting the new dragons?

  “Are we too late?” Gialyn asked. “Or too early?”

  The dragon to Sek’s left curled his lip. “I don’t see how that would matter to you one way or another,” he said.

  It was Loon, Gialyn realised. A particularly unpleasant dragon who even Shiroku had the good sense to avoid.

  “You are a little early,” Sek said, ignoring Loon’s comment. “But now you are here, you can help Mersius with the torches. They must be bright if our friends are to find their way.”

  Gialyn looked up. It was a clear night; a dragon could have seen a single torch from a mile away. He might have mentioned that to Sek, but the black dragon had already turned his back on him, and was now talking to Goleb.

  “Torches it is, then,” Shiroku said. “Do you know where they are?”

  Gialyn nodded toward the building to the right of the pyramid. “In there,” he said. “But I think Mersius has lit most of them, better we just help him with the last.”

  Shiroku nodded, and the three – Toban following close behind – made their way over to the boy.

  “Sek got you working?” Gialyn asked.

  Mersius shrugged. “No, this was my idea. The forest is thick this far south, wouldn’t want them running right past us.”

  “Running?” Gialyn said. A vision of the rabbit dragon flashed through his mind. “Do you know what is coming?” he asked the boy.

  Mersius said nothing, but his eye was spinning. Shiroku rolled her eyes in a don’t-bother-asking gesture. Mersius always did that – seemed to know something and then refused to say.

  Oh well, Gialyn thought, we will find out soon enough, I suppose. But he was going to have a word with the boy about sharing with friends.

  Torches lit, they waited in the square area in front of the temple.

  And waited…

  And waited…

  Eventually, Shiroku turned to Mersius. “Are you sure you have the right day?” she asked. “I don’t think they are coming.”

  Mersius looked up at her – he did not have to look far; she was barely half-a-hand taller than he was. “They are already here,” he said. “Have been for over an hour. They are watching, making sure it is safe to come forward.”

  Gialyn blinked at the boy. Whispering, he said, “Does Sek know that? He does not look happy.”

  “That is why they are watching us,” Mersius said.

  Suddenly, Gialyn wondered if the black dragon was going to ruin everything; if one of his impatient moods was going to scare away the new dragons. Somehow, Gialyn knew he could not allow that to happen.

  He walked into the centre of the open square and raised his arms. He closed his eyes and reached out with the Voice. He pushed the silver curtain to one side and, almost immediately, his Vision was full of bright yellow dots.

  Cats? he thought, incredulous. Not rabbit dragons, he told himself, cat dragons.

  Could that be right? As far as he knew, only cats made a yellow light within the spirit vision. Were they really surrounded by cat drag—

  Snap, snap, a Voice said. It sounded feminine, and high pitched. Cut your bond, Divinian. We will come when we are ready. No need to call.

  Gialyn almost laughed. Did Sek know what he was dealing with? If these dragon cats were anything like normal cats, there would be no ordering them around.

  “What is it?” Shiroku asked. “Why are you smiling?”

  “Oh, just… thinking of something,” Gialyn said.

  “Did you See them?” Toban said. “I can smell something strange, and it’s not all dragon.”

  Smiling, Gialyn turned to the wolf. “What are you like with cats?” he asked.

  Toban stared blankly at him, then his eyes widened. “No! You can’t mean…!”

  “Oh yes I do,” Gialyn said. “Our friends are giant cats.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Fe’roc

  Gialyn remembered Cuthbert from that first time Olivia had tried teaching him the Voice. How ironic those early lessons should prove so prophetic – if the princess’s cat had been difficult to deal with, how much harder would a cat-dragon be?.

  “Are they coming in or not?” Toban asked.

  The Rukin alpha was pacing, never taking his eyes off the dark shadows around the temple square. He seemed nervous, or maybe angry. His hackles were up, and he looked ready to fight. Gialyn could hardly blame him: the only dog in a circle of at least fifty gigantic cats.

  “Don’t you like cats,” Shiroku asked the wolf. She could not help a cheeky grin creasing her lip.

  “They are not cats,” Toban said. “Cats are small and fury and run away from dogs. These are more dragon than cat.”

  “Cat dragons,” Gialyn whispered. This is exactly what we need, a creature who can fight the Karakin on their own terms, follow them into caves and tunnels and flush them out of their dens.

  “Cat dragons?” Shiroku said. “We are going to have to come up with a better name than that.”

>   Gialyn nodded. “If they bother to come out where we can see them, we can ask what they call themselves.”

  “Call them whatever you like,” Toban said. “I say we leave, and quickly. I do not like this. Another minute, and we’ll be surrounded. Leave now, or use the pyramid; we must defend ourselves.”

  “Calm down, wolf,” Sek said. “Unlike you, our new friends were invited. Stop your talk before you scare them off.”

  “Scare them!” Toban laughed. “There must be near-on a hundred of them, each one twice my size. It’s like being surrounded by a hundred feline Darkin. Only I doubt this lot care about any ancient treaties.”

  “I think,” Shiroku said, “if they were here to attack, we would be dead already. There are enough of them to kill even the dragons. Maybe you should call more of your friends.” She said the last to Sek.

  “Like I said,” the black dragon growled, “they were invited.”

  “You could at least go to the pyramid,” Toban repeated.

  Chit, chit, chit, the Voice said. You are like birds with all your chit, chit, chit. Take heed, we are Ti’fei, the Wingless Ones. We are Fe’lio, the Hidden Claw. We are Fe’roc, creatures of the grey lake. I am Setuni, their leader, and we do not chit, chit, chit.

  Gialyn swallowed, then glanced around. Had Sek heard that, too? Had any of the dragons heard? None were moving, which meant this Setuni was talking to him alone.

  Well, he told himself, you are the one who strolled into the temple square and raised your arms like some lost prophet of old.

  He opened his mouth to speak, then remembered what Setuni had said – you are like birds with all your chit, chit, chit.

  Taking a deep breath, he reached out with the Voice.

  My name is Gialyn Re’adh, the… err… Divinian Scribe? Please, you need not hide in the shadows.

  Are we not all of us hiding? Setuni said. You are a long way from home, Divinian, you and your wolf and your bird and your silver-eyed boy. A long way from the fight.